A Note for You, If You’re Having A Bad Day
My Friend,
A few years ago, the epically renowned Chicago live show Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind faced a conundrum. It was a big news story, but you still might’ve missed it. The show had been running at the Neo-Futurist Theatre for 28 years when Greg Allen, who’d come up with the title, pulled the rights, saying he wanted to reboot it himself. Soon after, a former cast member wrote a post describing some of Allen’s abuses, and questioning his motives. More people came forward, more stories were written, and community theater aficionados got behind The Neo-Futurists in solidarity. But nevertheless, the theater was forced to discontinue the show.
Which they did.
Except, they didn’t. They continue to put up a show at the same time that Too Much Light used to run, with the same format (30 plays in 60 minutes), but with a “wrench” thrown in, making the premise ever-so-slightly different. They named it The Infinite Wrench, and it remains enormously popular, continuing in the footsteps of its predecessor.
I’m telling you this because of the wrench.
The first time someone threw a metaphorical wrench into something, at least on paper, was in 1892. The phrase came up in The San Francisco Chronicle, in an article about a debate in the House of Representatives. The article refers to “the man who threw a monkey-wrench into a threshing machine because he was not allowed to feed it.” I guess in 1892, it was usually a person throwing wrenches into machines — rather than the universe throwing wrenches into faces. Rather than the universe hurtling giant, metal tools repeatedly against our bare foreheads. Rather than the universe looking at our meticulous, curated plans and schedules and laughing out loud.
You know what I’m talking about, but here are just a few examples:
You planned to throw a quirky picnic, but it pours rain, seemingly for days.
You were going to the gym! But it’s closed, or someone has to fix the speaker system for three hours, or your car won’t start, or a tire is flat on your bike.
Time to call your mom! That was the whole point of this walk! But you have no bars. And now: more rain.
Today was salad day, and you JUST bought these salad greens, but you open the bag and it smells weird, and then you realize that oh my god, they expired like a whole week ago.
The bowls are all dirty.
The bowling alley has no parking spots or open lanes for four hours.
The haircut turned into a bowl-cut — and without the presence of a bowl!
You spilled coffee on your work computer for the second time in a month.
You are covered in hives.
You finally remembered, but for the first time, your date forgot.
Work fell to the wayside while you traveled to New Orleans for a week. New Orleans is already emotionally fraught for you, and you added the presence of a two-year-old, who you were supposed to co-parent with your overly chill husband. It was hard to do anything work-related; your two-year-old refused to nap. Now you’re back, and the to-do list is triple the size it was before you left (how is this possible?), but you’re determined, you’ve got your huge mug of coffee, you’ve got your ambient playlist, and you’ve assured everyone that you’re going to catch up. They believe you. All you have to do is get your daughter to daycare. She is there for twenty-three minutes before the daycare calls. The two-year-old has a fever, they tell you. She has to come home, immediately. You can’t cancel your meetings, and frankly, it makes sense that everyone’s patience has worn thin. You try to apologize; the two-year-old screams. You hope this will make the people in the meetings feel sorry for you, but they give you that “please-control-your-kid” look that some people get in the grocery store. You would if you could, but don’t the meeting people understand that she is so sick? She’s never had a fever before. You are a professional. You are scared. You are exhausted, because the more the sick kid is sick (and now days have passed, and she is still sick), the less she sleeps. The meeting people don’t understand, and you have to admit that it’s not their job to understand. The person not doing their job is you.
OK, you caught me: that last wrench is personal. I mean, my daughter was probably at daycare for twenty-eight minutes, but otherwise, yes. This has been my week. It’s not a tragedy; it’s not even really all that bad. It’s a wrench.
Wrenches turn up all the time, for all of us. Can you think of your most recent wrench? It’s disappointing to have your plans ruined. Most of the time we’re cheating God, having the audacity to even make plans. At least, that’s the record that plays in my mind when a wrench comes along: What was I thinking? Why did I think this would work? Forward is a gift; it isn’t a guarantee. I’ve been so hubristic, having a day planner, making promises. This is how the disappointment of ruined plans is joined by a gush of self-loathing. It’s an ugly recipe. Usually it all necessitates cake.
This phase can last a day, a week, maybe more. That’s OK. Sulking and getting a little stuck in the gunk of a machine that’s fallen apart is normal. Disappointment takes time to process. (Text your friends. Let them agree that this really sucks. Let them tell you it’s not fair. That’s what they’re there for!) Eventually, you pick yourself up. You take a moment to acknowledge that while the wrench has shut down the machine for a while, the machine generally runs pretty well.
And: what is a wrench in a machine but a tool that’s in the wrong place at the wrong time? The Neo-Futurists pulled their wrench out and used it. Now it’s part of the thing. Now it’s making the thing work better.
There is nothing to do but try again, however tenderly. There is nothing to do but open the door, look outside, and gather the courage to greet your own life.
Good luck out there, bravely facing all that breaks your heart.
Love,
Sophie
I think you wrote, "There is nothing to do but try again, however tenderly." I LOVE that you included this reference to tenderness. I LOVE that you included it here, in this sentence, in this way. Thank you for the reminder and the focus for a moment on the tenderness that we can bring to our hurting, vulnerable selves.
<3
I love infinite wrench (I've only ever seen the SF neofuturists)
I love your mess
I am sending all the love and care and ease for this moment
<3