I can’t remember if I read it somewhere or if someone told me, but eating salad with chopsticks is much better than using a fork. No matter how big or small the greens are, or the add-ins, it’s a more consistent and satisfying means of delivering the goods to your mouth. I hope you’ll try it.

My afternoons at work are better since I’ve added a mug of green tea topped with a stroopwafel to the agenda. Anything that happens after that feels more elegant and purposeful. I can’t explain it, but then, no one has asked me to.

Water and going outside will fix just about any condition or annoyance. And these two options are so customizable. You can stick your head out the car window at a red light like a dog, step onto your front porch with your morning beverage and greet the day. Or…drinking water, dipping your toes or your entire self in water, listening to water cascade softly off the hard concrete of a mossy fountain, standing on the sand as the waves come at you so rhythmically. Those last two put them both together almost effortlessly (see what I did there?). But if only one is available, really make it work for you. Bend your head back and get that last drop, drink that tumbler dry, take off your socks and feel that cool grass or hard soil right there on your skin. Let the wind rearrange your hair despite the gel or mousse you applied in your morning ablutions. Spreading your arms out as wide as you can adds drama. You’ll feel better.

Putting out cloth napkins at an informal gathering of good people is part eco-consciousness and part sociological study, which, when combined, add an element of rarefied sophistication to a party where folks are willing to learn more about each other. Some of our guests are hesitant to use them, afraid they’ll get them dirty with rich red tomato-y pasta sauce or hummus that strayed ever so slightly from the target, and will ask for a paper towel. We cheerfully reassure them that the chintz pattern on one or the dancing bees on another are sturdy enough to mop up faces and survive an extra spin cycle in the washer. Judging by their surprised smiles, you would think we’d given them a strip of scratch-off lottery tickets. Delightful.

If you need a nap, try to do it within earshot of a warbler or a mockingbird.

That feeling of resentment toward someone that sits all heavy and muddy in your gut? That you just can’t shake or transform or dissolve? See above suggestion to go outside or do something that involves water. For at least those few moments, your senses will be taken up with the coolness of liquid on the back of your throat or the expanse of sky miles above your head (gray and cloudy or blue and endless makes no difference) and you won’t have spent another second snagged on the razor wire of contempt. Then, come back, notice the heaviness of resentment unreleased, and forgive yourself for being in the middle of your own movie. Self-compassion clears the way for compassion towards others. Toward anyone. Oh, and it’s a practice, not a one-and-done event. Let that sink in a bit.

Carry-out pizza on a Tuesday night, when your workday was pleasant and manageable and without drama, gives a rise to the week even before hump day shows it’s hump. Carry-out pizza on a Tuesday and a Friday in the same week is pure decadence, after which you may need a cigarette and some time in the confessional. Make it worth it—get extra cheese.

We almost always do better when we talk to people instead of about them. Especially those folks we see every day, need to get along with in the workplace, or sit next to at Thanksgiving.

In the middle of an argument or an intense discussion with someone you love deeply, reach for her hand and make contact. Though I don’t know the nature of your loving relationships, it’s unlikely such a move will lead to violence. In fact, the evidence shows the opposite—it’ll calm things down, provide a gentle and tactile reminder that you’re both on each other’s side, underneath all that present-moment contrariness.

At least once in your life, be responsible for another living creature that doesn’t speak your language, move about the way you do, or have a paying job.

Even one houseplant, nothing fussy or high maintenance, can make the most cluttered or sparse room feel less so. If it’s still alive after seven weeks, get a second one.

When faced with overwhelming, confusing, expensive, inconvenient, troublesome, and even urgent choices, remember: doing nothing is still an option.

There. Isn’t that better?