Grace Under Fire

". . . and she's looking for someone kind." 

I had let Ta take over this conversation, since I'm so tired of rattling off my very short list, have the inquirer nod understandingly, then if they follow up, sending me a profile of someone who doesn't remotely fit my limited criteria at all. 

I thought about what Ta had said, and something niggled. 

Kind. Nice. There are people out there who walked out of the womb who fit that description. Their smiles are beatific. All agree they are "sweet." They never demand or shout or are disagreeable. 

But they are not necessarily immune to the "bad day." 

Bad days happen. They are a fact of life. There are days when "everything" just seems to go wrong. If not everything, then enough. Buses are missed. Umbrellas are forgotten. Stocks go down. Colds are caught. Bosses yell. Wallets are misplaced. 

Now: Be nice. 

I'm not looking for someone inherently kind. It's no big kintz to be born nice—one cannot take credit for that, anymore than one can accept compliments for eye color ("Yes, I worked quite hard on achieving the perfect shade of hazel. Thank you so much for noticing").

I cannot delicately phrase it, and few would recognize it in real life anyway, but here it is: I'm looking for someone who can suck it up. Adorableness is of little import when the weather is ideal and the plumbing is operating swimmingly and there aren't squirrels in the attic. 

Can he keep it together (enough) when everything else is falling apart? 

That's the question.