The End of Wishing Our Days Away

All we could think about was making it to Friday. But by Sunday afternoon, the sirens of anxiety were sounding again. Back to work. Time's up.
Fun had become a figment of our imagination, our time together a commodity. Diet and exercise – Puh-leeezzzzz.

A health crisis woke us to the misery of our lot. One of us is reduced to a list of symptoms and various discomforts. The other is lost in a silent world of maddening frustration.

What followed our lengthy recovery was an explosion of questions about our mediocre lives. Why were we still working our crappy jobs? Why were our pant sizes increasing with such ease, such nonchalance? Why hadn't we retirement accounts? Why were we watching stupefying TV shows? Why was our marriage part-time when we wanted to be together so badly?

The answers to these questions frame the story of our transformation from merely existing to living, from starving for time together to having all we wanted, from dreary and dull to laughter and fun with a capital F.

Ruthlessly, we began to cut the cancer of mediocrity out of our lives, beating it back with wild-eyed viciousness every time it dared to make so much as a peep. We made a commitment to something loftier than work or obligation. We made a commitment to each other.