Ahh, Moby.
Tonight's dinner provided by QFC, and I feel very fancy and continental just saying it: a juicy Fuji apple, a half of a mini-baguette, and a small wedge of delightfully buttery brie. I feel French or something. C'est bon!
To be honest, today didn't start out good.
Wait, I'll rephrase: This WEEK didn't start out good.
I started it in a funk. A restless, unhappy funk. I felt all squirmy, like one of my daycare kids during naptime when they have to lie still for two hours in the dark. And I was grumpy. And I did a lot of yelling, mainly at work, though a lot of the loudest yelling was actually in my own head.
But today? Today I knew I had a choice to make. I had squirmed and wiggled and made a general crank of myself for two full days, and it was time to make a decision: is this the way I'm going to freeze myself to be for the rest of the week, or am I going to get over it and stop being a jerk to myself and everyone else?
Welcome back home, Forced Attitude Adjustment. I missed you.
Where is it written that life has to pan out exactly the way I want it to? Who ever said things would be easy? Who died and made me empress of the known world?
No, things are still not the way I want them to be. No, my life isn't picture-perfect. No, I'm not Miss Ever-Happy-Ever-Smiling-Ever-Bright, and I'm not even on the list to be empress of the known world.
But my life is pretty damn good. And my attitude need not reflect the few icky things that have decided to rear their ugly heads. I'm better than that, and I know it.
Now I just gotta show it.
Sheepishly yours,
-The GLS
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