Tomorrow, I’ll be standing in a crowd of people attempting to break a Guinness World Record. The details? Doors open at 4 p.m., the official attempt is at 6 p.m., and, according to a very optimistic local news article, “a comedian and musical acts” will also attend. I can’t help but be skeptical about the entertainment quality—small towns aren’t exactly known for pulling off world-class events. But then again, skepticism is sort of my hobby. It’s my built-in excuse to stay home.
I realize I haven’t told you what record we’re trying to break, but I think it’s more fun to let your imagination spin for a second. Here’s a clue: our city has already tried—and failed—twice before. Also, the goal is to surpass the Royal Albert Hall in London, whose attendance record sits at 5,190 people.
If your guess involves an orgy, I’m sorry to disappoint. Also, there will be no mass hopping on one leg or synchronized backflips either. Just hundreds (hopefully thousands) of people blowing kazoos in unison.
Meanwhile, on the other side of my life—the quiet, digital one—my open browser tabs tell an entirely different story. Right now, you’d find:
- The IRS instructions for Form 1099-K.
- FreeTaxUSA’s login screen (which has logged me out for inactivity, naturally).
- A pozole recipe I’ve been eyeing, a rich, citrusy Mexican pork broth that sounds delectable.
- An article explaining why Spanish sometimes throws in an extra, unnecessary “le.”
- And the dashboard of my now-fixed (but still needing edits) business website.
You could learn a lot about someone by glancing at their open tabs. I used to worry about anyone seeing mine as if they exposed my tangled, vulnerable underbelly—the scattered, unfinished parts of me. But looking at them today, it’s almost endearing. Taxes, food, learning, work. A messy but honest snapshot of my life.
T-minus 17 minutes until my last therapy session of the evening. I like a 9 p.m. session. I don’t like having to squeeze in writing afterward, which is why I gently shushed Dave when he tried to talk just to talk. I felt a flicker of guilt asking for space—but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that protecting my peace late at night is one of the kindest things I can do for myself.
And maybe that’s the whole point of tomorrow’s silly kazoo thing. There’s something to be said about blowing into a kazoo to usher in the weekend. I need it. The goofy simplicity of it is a good palette cleanser for the heavier things I’ve been carrying around. I need to remember not to minimize things like that—or the hour I spent earlier organizing Evelyn’s newly gifted dollhouse. At one point, while I was arranging the tiny furniture with more enthusiasm than I meant to show, Evelyn glanced at me and asked, “Have you always wanted one of these and never got it?”
I told her yes.
But I do now.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 