An empty Good Stuff Jar is a sad thing

I’ve written about our Good Stuff Jar previously, wherein you write down good things that happen through the year and then jumble them up and read them out loud at the end of the year so you and your loved ones can enjoy the good times all over again.

Well, as anyone can tell you, 2020 hasn’t seen a lot of good yet. In fact, it’s been pretty goddamn lousy, from beloved athletes and musicians dying, to worldwide calls for social isolation ranging between weeks and months (and that now also tanking the stock market, which experts assure us will result in a definite recession, it’s just a question of how deep it’ll be), and a metric ton of shit in between.

I’m really, really looking for the good stuff, even just for my family, but aside from our overall health and well-being–though that’s had a rough go of it for the last week as well, with a round of fevers and coughing for everyone and a side of croup (of all things) for my daughter–there hasn’t been anything I’ve felt really should be tossed into the jar.

It’s quickly* approaching the end of March and there’s not one note in the jar? That’s just sad.

I don’t want to have to lower my expectations (“May 2nd: Reay went for a walk today and didn’t roll an ankle!”), so I’m just gonna hold out and try to rile up some confidence from somewhere that not only will things get better, but that many things will get a lot better by the end of the year.

C’mon, 2020, get it together!
Let’s fill that jar with quality stuff I don’t need to fabricate (“August 17th: Found an adorable lost puppy and returned it to super attractive/grateful owner, who turned out to be a movie producer who was looking for some new scripts and wants to meet for coffee about my pitches.”)!


*Although whoo, lordy, if you want time to goddamn inch by, close up everything remotely entertaining that isn’t the out-of-doors itself, and tell everyone to stay locked up with the people in your household.
I’m starting to suspect that this is all a bit of a new Purge scenario, where you can’t go anywhere but yet it’s kind of understood and agreed upon that oh, for sure, there’s going to be killing happening.