I live in an ordinary city, in an ordinary neighborhood, in an ordinary apartment. And it’s cold and wet outside.

Lucky for me, I am surrounded by family and friends who hold the ordinary very dear: languid neighborhood walks, rosy-cheeked kids splashing in puddles, chunky peanut butter on toast, an oversized and threadbare t-shirt drawn over knees, loose leaves of tea steeping in a mug, the dull hum of laundry drying, laughing at a story over background music.

The most special of things are often the everyday habits and modest traditions – the way I pull my hair back in the untidiest of buns before tackling the dishes, the way Mister Man clears his throat before turning a page in his book – that go undocumented and unpraised. But if we have these things, we should appreciate them now, right?

Finding the wonder in a traffic-lagged morning commute isn’t always the easiest task at hand, but then most things aren’t that easy. In my book, choosing lightheartedness is much more appealing than dwelling on frustrations you can’t change. It’s far less stressful and way more fun. And in the wise words of Mr. Leo Tolstoy, “Happiness does not depend on outward things, but on the way you see them.”

Maybe rose-tinted glasses aren’t so bad after all. I bet our days would be more interesting if we were more aware of everything around us. The fall weather slows me down to a mellower pace of gratitude, and I hope it does the same for you. So in the name of thanksgiving, reclaim the mundane and make it fascinating.

What makes your lips quirk into a goofy smile? What makes your head fall back in joyful laughter? And what makes your eyes soften with tender appreciation?

If you can’t think of a single thing…then I wish you and your furrowed brow much luck. May your harumph-ing only last for a blip in time (and may it not bum out the rest of us.)