I recently tweeted about how I found out my medical scrubs had a zippered fly. Well, I didn’t actually tweet about how I found that out. I just tweeted something about it and how wonderful it made me feel. Again, not for the obvious reasons, but more for the fly being a metaphor about how we should rejoice in our simple, daily discoveries that might otherwise go uncelebrated. You can see the “fly” tweet if you so desire on Twitter: @skelleyr.
I thought about headlining this post, The fly heard ’round the world as technically-speaking, between Twitter, WordPress, LinkedIn and Facebook this information is most certainly promulgated throughout our global audience.
Discovering the fly did not make me want to quit my job and sail around the world looking for actual flies. Nor did it make me want to play games of chance, although I did feel pretty “lucky.” It’s been a strange week, but if you’re going to qualify strange, I guess it should be called strangely wonderfly, I mean, wonderful.
Like taking a different route to a place you travel to daily (commuters…are you listening?), altering the way we do habitual tasks can lead to our minds being released from figurative prison. We get into ruts because we do the same things over and over without ever changing up our routines. We are creatures of habit to our own detriment.
I’m sort of envious of morning persons as although I can perform at high levels during the morning, I’ve had trouble getting in gear in the morning dating all the way back to when I was in boot camp; I did it, but I always felt spacey. I do acknowledge, however, that the most important mental tasks were interestingly enough usually accomplished during the morning hours back in those days.
Discoveries can be by accident as was my finding the mystical fly. Located (also interestingly enough) in close proximity to the jewels of the Nile, I suppose I fumbled my way onto it. I was pleasantly shocked and surprised, so much so, that even though I came upon the rippled edges of the sturdy fly, I instinctively lowered the scrub trousers to facilitate the business at hand.
Smiling as I completed my business (I typically do that whether I find things like flies on my scrubs or not), I put everything back in order as it were, washed my hands and exited the lavatory. I like the lavatory word but find I haven’t used it much since I was in elementary school.
Everyone would ask, “Miss So and So, can I please go to the lavatory?” I thought it sounded too close to “laboratory.” So, I typically would ask to go to the bathroom even though this technically was not like the bathrooms in homes where there were actual shower facilities and you could, well, take a bath (in the tub that was in the room).
Back to the story and bathroom exit strategy
Now is the part of the story where things get tidied up. I watched a little of the All-Star game last night and saw Derek Jeter‘s last two All-Star game at bats where he doubled and singled, respectively. I pretty much missed Derek Jeter’s career entirely having left New York long before he burst onto the scene.
Ironically enough, the announcers were talking about how Jeter’s generation was the one where his followers of fans could track him via the web and social media. You didn’t have to be a New Yorker to love Jeter and keep tabs on him via the box scores or stories in the daily papers there.
I thought this was all perhaps true but I couldn’t help think I was discovering Jeter again for the very first time last night as I watched. He was enjoying himself, staying in the moment, was gracious, smiling and thanked the fans and his fellow players and coaches as he held the limelight yet again on his farewell tour in this his final season at age 40.
Jeter’s baseball player career will soon be behind him. I wish him many more discoveries after his playing days are through.
Until then, may the infield fly rule serve him admirably as he continues pursuing destiny during baseball’s second half.