Yesterday I didn’t want to drive to the store for groceries. I didn’t want to stop for gas afterward. And I didn’t want to help cook dinner when I got home. I’d rather have been in the ocean. Or kissing my wife. Or maybe both at the same time.
Life’s necessary banalities often feel like obstacles standing between us and something more stimulating. I mean, who wouldn’t rather be eating ice cream or watching television?
Therein lies the trap: left unchecked, we mistake excitement for happiness.
Of course, excitement isn’t evil. But I’ve chased it enough to know I won’t find contentment there. Instead, contentment arrives the moment you realize you get to do the things you have to do.
When you develop a desire for the mundane—when you genuinely enjoy your chores—you win the game of life. You don’t have to wash the dishes, make the bed, or declutter the garage. You get to. Happiness isn’t hiding inside life’s most extraordinary experiences; it’s waiting in the ordinary ones.
I suspect this is why my wife is the happiest person I know. She doesn’t complain about life’s responsibilities. She simply waters the garden, folds the laundry, and vacuums the crumbs our daughter left on the kitchen floor—the same way she surfs, hikes, or eats cheesecake.
Then there’s me, muttering into the ether about the errands I have to run, even though all I need to do is open my eyes and let these ordinary moments pull me into the majesty of the present.
In that sense, contentment is a choice.
Yesterday I had to buy groceries, stop for gas, and cook dinner.
Today, I get to.
