I didn’t have to go to school today.

My parents and I didn’t watch the debates last night. This was very much on purpose. The prospect of watching 45 debate literally anyone felt like an unnecessary stress that I didn’t need to put myself through. This morning, I was grateful I didn’t do that to myself. One news anchor at CNN described that debate as a hot mess inside of a dumpster fire inside of a train wreck, and I don’t need any more of those in my life this week, thanks.

So instead of watching the debate, we watched Twin Peaks and opened a bottle of wine. It was the very first bottle of home-brewed stuff from the weirdly manic summer of Trying All The Things…

Anyway.

We opened a random half-gallon batch of cherry wine, bottled sometime around the end of July.

And I was fully expecting it to be horrible. At worst badly infected with some random strain of bacteria, gritty, turned to vinegar. At best, flat and dry and flavorless and harsh. I had myself convinced that the outcome was going to be one of those options.

But it wasn’t.

My dad did the honors. He uncorked the bottle, which made a satisfying sound, poured a glass, took the first sip. And then his face lit up in surprise, and he smiled.

I was very much not emotionally prepared for that outcome. Might have taken a couple of involuntary physical steps backwards.

A kind but smart-assed voice in my head would like to point out that constantly expecting the worst possible outcome might be a little dumb, on my part. This is the same voice that makes exasperated noises when I realize that a joke that sounded funny in my head was basically just me putting myself down, but out loud and in front of people.

I don’t know.

Hoping that things will work out beautifully is difficult. Striving for excellence is taking a risk. Believing that there is anything about me that is worth jack to anybody is so impossibly hard, because what if…

What if.

What if they do care, even when you’re decidedly messy and imperfect. What if the recipie turns out alright, or even turns out beutifully and makes your father smile from ear to ear. What if you have the capacity for excellence, at a few things, if only you can give it a little time. What if.

It’s kind of funny, but I’m actually trying to let go of both of those things. Both ends of the spectrum. I know enough about myself to know that thinking positively in a rough moment is not enough to save me from myself, but I also know that feeding a negative thought spiral isn’t going to help.

I want to get to a place where I can open a dusty bottle, try a little, and know deep in my soul that it doesnt matter if I’ve poured myself a glass of vinegar or wine.

Because I dared to try. Because that’s enough. Because that’s part of living.

Folks, I hope you have the Wednesdayist of Wednesdays.