One morning during my recent trip to Vancouver (no, I'm not done talking about it), I was the first one awake and thought I'd make myself a cup of tea. I picked up the metal tea kettle and the handle popped out. I stuck it back in, thought "Note to self: Remember that the handle pops out", then carefully filled up the kettle with water and placed it on the stove ring to boil. Several minutes later, I heard its whistle and went to pick it up. You may be able to guess what happened next. I had forgotten that the handle was broken, which means I poured boiling hot water all over the kitchen floor (fortunately not all over myself). What's more, I did this twice.
This was, perhaps, an easy mistake to make (twice). It just slipped my mind (twice). But there are other times when I know full well that what I'm doing is stupid and I still do it anyway.
Case in point: I exiled a face moisturizer to my bathroom cupboard a few months ago because it made my face feel like it was burning off. A few days ago, I pulled it back out and thought, "Maybe I should give this another try." I'm very frugal, you see, and hated the idea of throwing out something I had spent 20-ish dollars on, and I genuinely thought that maybe, just maybe, I had been crazy back then, those other five or six times I had tried it (I'm a slow learner), and perhaps it was actually really amazing! Somehow, squeezing out a dollop and smearing it on my face seemed like a good idea. It was not. I may have lucked out with the kettle, but this time I definitely got burned.
Why do we do this??? Why do we not learn from our mistakes??? Did I think that the cupboard was magical? Did I think that maybe having a time-out had made the moisturizer come to its senses? So, so very stupid, but we do this sort of thing all the time. Don't we? Please tell me I'm not the only one.
You know that you are allergic to sugar and wheat and eggs and dairy but you specifically choose to go out to a crêperie for breakfast where you order and devour not one but TWO gigantic crepes, which include ALL of those ingredients, causing your tummy to be so very mad at you.
You know that you have a two drink maximum before you become less-than-charming and more-than-nauseous, but you have another cocktail anyway and then it's 3 a.m. on your 37th birthday and you are hoping someone will give you the gift of sweet death.
You know that he's a jerk who once disappeared on you while on a date, leaving you alone in a bar for 45 minutes, to go back to his place and have a beer with his buddy, but you liked the same music and had fun in bed and maybe they didn't have that kind of beer at the bar and he totally meant to bring you back one too and you should probably give him a call, right?
No, no you should not. Back away from the phone. Man, based on the above, I'm going to have to say that you are an idiot.
There is no magical cupboard that will turn that jerk into your knight in shining armour. (If I'm wrong and such a device does exist, please write up my order immediately.)
There is no third cocktail that will allow you to have a wonderful night's sleep and wake up refreshed. (Wait, there is, it's called a mocktail. Order a mocktail next time, genius.)
There is no delicious crêpe the size of your head that will leave you satisfied and stomach-cramp-free. (I regret nothing.)
According to the Internet, which is never wrong, Einstein once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. We need to stop the insanity and start learning from our mistakes, people. The chances that he'll change, that she'll see the error of her ways, that those pants will suddenly fit, that that sweater will no longer be itchy, that the job you hate will get better, that that one more drink/crêpe/chocolate/box of chocolates/late-night-hour-of-Amy-Schumer-clips-on-YouTube will be a good idea come morning...are slim at best.
And even if there is a chance, don't you deserve a 100% cramp-less, itch-free, well-rested life shared with those who respect you 100% of the time? I'm here to tell you that you do. So throw the moisturizer in the trash (and that face powder that's in the cupboard too...it's not going to suddenly become the right shade for you). Delete his number from your phone. Choose the oatmeal. Have a Shirley Temple. And listen to me. Clearly, you need my guidance.