Well. That Was On Me

Today was one of those days where there was no villain.
No missed email from someone else.
No scheduling error to point at.

Just me. Fully responsible.

On dance days, I leave the house before 6 a.m. I train down to Miami, stop for yoga to warm up, grab a quick breakfast, and then head to the studio. Door to door, it’s a two-hour commitment before I even put on dance shoes.

And honestly? The morning started beautifully.

I caught the train with seconds to spare. A cheerful attendant greeted me like we were old friends. The yoga class delivered one of those quiet ohhh moments — the kind that makes you feel oddly grateful to be alive in your body. I even had time to eat before arriving at the studio early, calm, and ready.

Which is when I discovered the problem.

I don’t read the confirmation texts from the dance studio the day before. They confirm lessons. No text means no lesson.

There was no text.

Because I had no lessons booked.

Cue the internal “gosh darn it” (with a stronger word hovering nearby) and that familiar drop in the stomach — the one that says, You did this to yourself.

What surprised me was how quickly the blame fizzled. Not because I didn’t deserve it, but because it wouldn’t help. The facts were clear. I hadn’t followed the system. End of story.

So I did what I’ve learned to do when life veers off-script — especially when it’s my own fault.

I acknowledged it without piling on. Yes, I messed up. Yes, I’ll do better next time. Beating myself up wasn’t going to refund the train ticket or rewind the clock.

Then I shifted. Changed my train to the next one heading back. Stayed practical.

And then something small — and entirely human — slipped in.

The Uber driver I use for dance days has decided he’s “my guy” for these early mornings. Better pricing for me, a running conversation for both of us. When I opened the door, he was practically levitating.

He had bought me an umbrella. And a hat.
Because rain was forecast.
And he didn’t want me getting wet.

He was absolutely giddy — bursting, really — that he finally got to give them to me. If I hadn’t come out that morning, he would have had to wait another week to spring the surprise, and that clearly would not have worked for him.

We laughed so hard I thought we might both cry.

It was ridiculous. And kind. And completely unnecessary. And exactly the sort of moment you don’t schedule — it just shows up.

Instead of dance, I had time that day. Real time. I visited a dear friend in hospice without watching the clock. I made it to the appliance store because a new refrigerator is on my To Do list.

None of this erased the annoyance. I was still irritated about the wasted time and money. I let that be true too.

But once the train started moving, I closed my eyes and slipped into a few minutes of centering prayer — my reset button. And then, quietly, a little wryly, I said: Bring it.

Because some days aren’t about getting what you planned.

They’re about noticing what arrives instead.

And sometimes, when you mess up and have only yourself to blame, the day still manages to surprise you — not with lessons, but with generosity, laughter, and the strange grace of being fully, messily human.

(More on the umbrella and the hat in another post.)