Simple Joys

If there is one theme to my professional career, it is that I rarely feel like I finish anything. There is always one more thing to do, or another goal to achieve. Even when I finish something, like a contract or a transaction, I feel muted joy from completing the task. That reality is largely because of the laborious process I must follow to close deals. By the time the closing occurs, it is anticlimactic. Hard to feel a sense of excitement or satisfaction when what you need is sleep.

A few years ago, I recognized this gap in my life; the void I feel from failing to enjoy completion. You may scoff at this notion, and for some, I am sure the need to check a box to be happy is foreign. I understand that. I don’t pretend to know if my desire to feel like I have finished a task is odd or mainstream. What I know is that it bothers me to no end.

Worry not. I have found a simple joy that provides me with a small modicum of happiness. I like to do the laundry. Yes, it is a chore, and a chore is supposed to be negative, but it isn’t for me. It is a task I can start and within a few hours complete.

When I first mentioned to my wife that I would like to do my laundry (she wouldn’t dare let me do hers), she thought it odd, but refrained from inquiring about my desire. I assume she concluded there were other things about me that were weird and more interesting to explore; if she ran out of material, she could always revisit my laundry fetish. Because she didn’t offer a view, the next time I needed to do laundry, I was on my own.

There were a few moments when I made rookie mistakes. I never turned my underwear pink; not because I was smart about mixing colors with whites. No, I didn’t create pink underwear because I don’t have red clothes; call it a personal preference. I did, however, turn a few white clothes into a peculiar shade of faded orange. This was predictable; if only I had predicted it, I could have avoided it. I am not being forthright. It wasn’t a shade of orange, although orange clothes were the culprit; it was more of a putrid yellow. It looked like I had washed my clothes in turmeric.

I also lost a few shirts by drying them. It was the first time in my life I blamed shirts that don’t fit on them shrinking as opposed to me growing.

Despite those early “teaching moments,” I pressed forward. Today, I am experienced and proud of being a veteran of the laundry room. In fact, each week I look forward to doing laundry. The satisfaction of folding my clothes and putting them away gives me pleasure; a joy that doesn’t leave me needing a nap to recover.

There are other simple joys I have found that meet my need to start something and finish it. I love taking walks, not random walks with little purpose. I like to walk a trail, know the distance I am traveling, take the walk and acknowledge my accomplishment when I am done. Admittedly, sometimes these walks are ambitious hikes, and I question why I am on the trail inflicting pain. But pain is part of the fun; it adds to my post-accomplishment joy.

If I had my career to do over again, I would celebrate the milestones more. To pause and enjoy accomplishments, even if those accomplishments were waystations on the way to a further point. I think I would have valued my career more.

But you know, it is easy to say today what I should have or could have done. I am told hindsight is typically accurate, so what’s the fun in revisiting what-ifs. Truth is, it is hard to do what you know you should do. When you are in the throes of a maelstrom, finding a calm place to pat yourself on the back is hard. We have all been there and most likely will be again. And yet, it is healthy to feel a sense of accomplishment. We all need it.

My kids rarely read my columns. This confuses me. Why aren’t they consistently reading what I write? I mean, it occasionally offers wisdom, and, as you know, kids love it when their dad gives them advice. Because they don’t frequent this column, I will take some liberties and point out that they are following the same path I did. Call it a shout-out to the 1974 Harry Chapin song, Cats in the Cradle, or maybe life has a grip on them, and they can’t raise their heads up long enough to see it. Regardless, they don’t seem to find simple joys. Everything revolves around staying ahead of the ever-turning hamster wheel.

I know I cannot offer them wisdom that will change their direction. I wish I could. If I did, I wouldn’t blame them if they responded with, “I get it, do as you say and not as you did.”

It would be a fair pushback.

What if I shared with them the joys of laundry? Do you think that would make the point? Probably not. Maybe I could take them for a hike.

Seeking an answer is no easy task; I must be careful what I suggest. My wife and daughter recently started an online French language course together. Sounds fun. Except, it feels like a recipe for a never-ending task that adds to the mound of stuff that you “have” to do.

I know my kids like to work out, and on the surface, that is promising. If processed the right way, it could be a simple joy, they experience something that starts and finishes the same day. Unfortunately, they, like most everyone else, have learned to set big goals. Big goals that never seem to be reached.

I have written before about gratitude. To me, it is one of the most powerful things we can practice. Immeasurable value comes from being happy with what you have and what you do. I try to practice it every day. Today, I am grateful for laundry. What a wonderful joy! I know I will finish this simple task in a few hours. There will be no celebration when I finish. However, like writing this column, there will be a small sense of completion; today I get a two for one. My column is complete, and I just heard the beeper go off on my laundry. It has been a good day.