The second of January is a rough day to go to work. After a week of parties and food, a week of thinking about all the things that had gone wrong about the last year and all the things that you hope to change for the next year, everything is a little off. And you know that when you get to work, every good intention will be tested by the choices you made the last time you were in.
I was still trying to wake up when I walked into Lystra Tea for something that would help me be ready for the new year.
He laughed. “That’s the perfect order for a day like today. Not all-in bold. Not confident bold. Medium bold.”
I shook my head. “It’s too early for wordplay. Now I understand what I do to Nancy every morning. Make it a large bold. I’m going to need help sorting through my day.”
Tim took down a mug from the rack and warmed it with hot water before filling it with my coffee. “I know you wanted a cup to go,” he said. “But I’d like to offer you some advice my grandmother gave me at the beginning of every year. You need to sit and think for a few minutes.”
I set my backpack on the floor and sat down at the counter.
“‘Timothy,’ she’d say, ‘your life is going to be different if you don’t take your advice from everyone who is offering it, especially those whose interest is their own gain not yours. And if you spend a lot of time standing outside the places you know will kill you, debating whether you should walk in, you will often pick wrong. And if you get involved with the people who find fault with everything, you are going sit there for hours, finding fault with everything.’”
“It sounds like she’s been reading over my shoulder,” I said. “Each one of my streams of information is full of best tips, guaranteed answers, perfect plans, and criticism. Email, mail, Facebook, Twitter, TV. And even when I keep checking them, they are always the same.”
“Maybe you need to listen to my grandmother,” Tim said.