The Day I Tried to Be Serious

I woke up that morning with a very strong and very serious decision. Today, I would act like a responsible adult. No jokes, no silly thoughts, and no laughing at small things. I told myself that serious people were respected, and today I wanted respect, even if I didn’t fully understand how serious people actually lived.

I practiced my serious face in the mirror for almost a minute. It looked uncomfortable, like my face was trying to wear shoes that were one size too small. Still, I nodded to myself and felt proud. This was the beginning of a new, serious life.

The first test came during breakfast. I poured milk into my tea instead of my cup and stared at it quietly. A serious person, I thought, would not panic. Just then, the toaster suddenly threw the bread into the air, and it landed on the floor like it had made an escape plan. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that serious people do not fight with kitchen appliances

On my way to work, I decided to walk instead of taking the bus. Walking felt serious and thoughtful. Halfway down the street, a small white dog started following me. It walked confidently, like it had important plans for the day. When I stopped, it stopped. When I walked faster, it walked faster.

I turned around and said firmly, “Go home.” The dog sat down and stared at me as if I was the confused one. A man passing by smiled and said, “Looks like you’ve made a new friend.” I didn’t smile back. Serious people don’t make friends before breakfast.

At the office, I entered quietly with my serious face on. My coworker looked at me and asked why I looked like someone had stolen my happiness. I replied calmly that I was being serious today. She laughed so hard that she spilled coffee on the table. That coffee stain stayed there all day like a reminder of my announcement.

During the morning meeting, I promised myself not to joke even once. When the boss asked for suggestions, I raised my hand and said we should start meetings on time. Everyone clapped, and for a moment, I felt successful. Then my chair made a loud cracking sound, and I slowly fell to the floor. I lay there quietly and said, “I’m fine,” while everyone tried not to laugh.

Lunch did not improve things. I ordered a simple sandwich, nothing fancy. The waiter brought me a plate with many sauces, strange vegetables, and bread that looked like it had been baked during a storm. When I said this wasn’t what I ordered, the waiter showed me his notes. Apparently, I had said, “Surprise me.” I didn’t remember that, but the sandwich was definitely surprised.

In the afternoon, I tried to focus on my work. My computer froze completely. I stared at it patiently, hoping seriousness would fix it. It didn’t. When it finally restarted, my desktop background had changed to a picture of a laughing baby. I didn’t choose it, but it felt like the computer was mocking me.

On the way home, I saw the same white dog sitting near my building. It wagged its tail happily. A neighbor asked if it was my dog. I said no, but the dog barked like it disagreed. After a short pause, I said yes. Serious people, I learned, sometimes give up.

That night, I sat on my bed and thought about the day. I had failed at being serious, but I had laughed, fallen, and somehow gained a dog. I looked in the mirror again, and my serious face was gone. I smiled naturally.

That was when I realized something important. Life doesn’t care about our serious plans. Sometimes the best thing to do is laugh early and save energy.

Tomorrow, I decided, I would stop trying so hard. Being myself seemed much easier.