Everyone knows the feeling of getting something shiny and new. It could have been your last birthday, or Christmas, or maybe a little treat to yourself after a momentous occasion, like finishing school.
I just bought a brand-new iPhone. I baby that thing like it is made of glass. I make sure the face is clean or that it is not getting stored with any sharp objects on my ride to work. I even put it in a little cloth bag on mountain bike rides to preserve its shiny, almost-new sheen. Some might say I go out of my way to do so.
What constitutes a great day?
Is it the people you spend it with, or the activities that conspire on that “ultimate day?” Or is perfection attained through carefully laid plans or fortuitous timing and good ol’ luck? The best day ever is the holy grail that we all search for; that little thing that gets you out of bed, wondering if the sun is rising on your best day ever.
But I don’t claim best days. There are too many things I enjoy in life to fit them all into one day. I would rather spread them out over a series of days, weeks, years. Best life ever, maybe.