I know I’m not the first to come up with this catchy slogan for Sunday, but I’m talking in a personal way, not in an overall Biblical sense. I’ve gotten up early the past six days to put in 55 hours at work.
Today was going to be different. No work. Sleep in. Have a very relaxing day.
After all, I’d earned it.
When I finally crawled out of bed after a much needed good night’s sleep, I made another great decision. There’s a new cafe down the block that sells excellent breakfast sandwiches. My leg still isn’t fully healed, so a run was out of the question, but a walk to the cafe on a beautiful Sunday morning sounded perfect.
I could practically taste the egg, cheese, and bacon on a homemade cheese bagel by the time I arrived at the place. My stomach was rumbling as I pulled on the door to open it.
My jaw dropped when it didn’t yield and grant me entry. Then my eyes found the “CLOSED” taped across the usual Sunday hours on the door.
This was how my perfect day of rest was going to begin?
I swallowed my bitter disappointment, but that didn’t provide anywhere close to enough calories to appease my empty tummy.
It was hot, my leg was starting to ache, and worst of all, I was getting moody. So that mile and a half round trip walk was out of the question.
I could’ve driven, but I had decided that this quest had ended and it was time to move on to something new. There had to be something in the house for breakfast.
Suddenly, I had to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Am I the only one, Modern Philosophers, who craves a PBJ at the oddest times?
That sandwich, plus a viewing of last night’s special Summer edition of The Nite Show, sounded like a perfect replacement for my perfect start to my day of rest.
Unfortunately, the bread was moldy. I hadn’t bought a loaf in a couple of weeks because I’ve been bringing salads for lunch and I’d obviously never thrown out the last one.
At this point, I was hungry, frustrated, and getting that old feeling that the world was plotting to keep me from ever being happy.
The dark clouds were rolling in. I could just sense it.
Remember, I’m all about staying positive now and that has been working so well for me lately.
The last time I followed her advice, however, things went horribly wrong, so I was one step from losing my cool.
That’s when I heard a little voice in my head that had been silent for far too long…
What would Jeb do?
Of course! My old standby, before I started going to the therapist and after I realized that trusting my gut never worked out well at all, had been to ask myself what Jeb Bush would do in the same situation.
You guys remember Jeb, right?
He was going to be the Republican candidate for President in 2016.
You know, before things went catastrophically wrong and we realized that Orange might be the new President.
So I was thrilled when the voice returned this morning…
What would Jeb do?
I cleared my head of all thoughts, just like Jeb Bush would do, and put myself in Jeb’s expensive shoes.
As expected, the answer to my problem popped right into my head.
I come from money, I’m entitled, my Daddy and brother were President, I don’t do my own cooking or worry about what’s being served.
That’s why, Modern Philosophers, I still haven’t eaten and I’m out here on the front porch waiting for one of the servants to bring me my meal.
All is well. The dark clouds have departed. It’s going to be a relaxing day.
Of course, if my breakfast doesn’t arrive soon, I’m going to fire everyone on staff and then ask my parents to find me more dependable employees…
Follow me on Pinterest. You know it’s what Jeb would do!