I have several habits, though I could never be considered a creature of those. I wake up at a specific time each day but not for any reason aside from an overactive thought cloud that rarely stops filling even during sleep. I do put my contacts in right away after a morning shower, and I do drink one cup of coffee at home before leaving for work, but those are the alpha and the omega of my habits. I have some bad habits, like resorting to snark very early on in most situations, at times when it might not be called for. In the 5th grade Mr. Geisel, whose name I likely just spelled wrong, called me out during a basketball game and told me that I had an attitude problem. That was 25 years ago, and I’m pretty sure he was right both then and now.
It would be hard to consider a lack of perspective a habit, as it’s more a faulty frame of mind than an oft completed task of tedium like most habits tend to be, but still. I suffer from this affliction in the way that some people on that television show eat drywall, or chew on their cats’ hair. Their habits are more disgusting, but mine is likely fatal whereas someone can indeed learn to not munch on so much drywall. On days like today, days when my thoughts turn to what is easily my second favorite Holiday, I reaffirm my pledge to stop being so lacking of this thing called perspective that continually evades me.
Last week, my home was not torn apart by a twisted fist of wind. If you’re reading this, I’m betting yours wasn’t either. Today, I walked down a polished hallway and grabbed a coat that selfishly cost me more than any six nice coats could have, and then I stepped into my garage and into my car, which started, as it tends to, on the first crank. There were times when we all had cars that we didn’t trust, that we didn’t know if they’d start when we needed them to. One winter I honestly spent nearly every morning jump starting my car with a battery pack. That winter was a long time ago.
I drove to a temporary office today, one with heat and a view of this lake, this great big blue lake that we all find to be so seriously important to us. I’ll work today, in a job that I mostly enjoy, and later today I’ll drive home to my wife and children, to my warm house and my dog and I’ll make a fire before turning to watch a clear image on a thin television. These are things that happen daily, and these are the things that are repeatedly taken for granted. I wish I could stop doing that.
Thanksgiving is a holiday, true. It is also a frame of mind, a condition of the heart, something we can either choose to adopt or ignore all together. I offer my thanks daily, though I do so without total sincerity. It’s more of a, “thanks for this but I’d really like that”, sort of thanks. It’s admittedly hollow, even though this life that I am so blessed to live is something that far exceeds most of my earlier expectations. I’m living a charmed life and I’m betting that if you’re reading this today you are as well. Most people in horrible life situations rarely offer up “Lake Geneva Real Estate” to the Google overlords. So we are blessed, blessed to be breathing another day and to be members of this great society in which we live. We are the lucky ones, and we should probably stop pretending like we aren’t.
This weekend, let’s be thankful, and then next week, when everyone else has put away their appreciative tone, let’s be thankful then too. I’m supremely thankful for all of my past, currently, and present clients, as I possess an intense, frightening awareness, that great realtors are not great because they know more about the market than everyone else does. They are generally considered great because consumers trust them and that trust leads to volume success. It’s that trust that I desperately want to earn. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, and we shall chat again on Monday. I will be working this coming weekend, so if there’s a vacation home in your future, we should probably start to pull that future closer to the present.