My number two sister came down from Alaska. Yesterday she, my wife, and I took Mom to meet the oncologist and find out about her cancer. It’s bad. But we were expecting catastrophic, so we’re relieved. After the doctor told us that it was bad and we needed to get Mom into surgery as soon as possible, we were high-fiving, “all ri-ight! Major surgery.” The doctor made sure he had a clear path to the door
This is the power of low expectations. If you expect the really horrible, the merely bad is cause for celebration. When the going gets tough, the real pessimists party down. We didn’t think there’d be any going at all.