I woke up this morning feeling angry at the world. It happens from time to time; sometimes, I know why, often I don't. Today's situation falls somewhere in the middle.
I know that it didn't help when I woke up hungry, stumbled down the stairs, poured my cereal, and opened the refrigerator to discover that we ran out of milk. I know that I can attribute the shift in my mood to a bad night of sleep, as Grr has a cold and could not get comfortable, as well as the string of (mostly work-related) bad days this week. I could also blame it on the abundance of moments throughout those days that have been neither bad nor good. Just abundant.
But whatever I choose as my scapegoat, none of those reasons are fitting fodder for a blog called "One Grateful Year."
And right when I thought I would have yet another day of writer's block, Sam sent me a text message midway through the afternoon, saying that he was near a Safeway and wanted to know what we are doing for dinner. "What do we have at home?" I asked.
"Two big slices of pizza and Klondike bars," he replied.
And I remembered how excited he was when I impulsively bought them a couple of days ago, so excited, in fact, that he immediately broke out into song when I got back into the car with them:
"What would you do-hoo-hoo / for a Klondike. . . you know, a lesbian from Alaska?"
I'm juvenile; I won't deny it. I should probably be at least somewhat disappointed in myself for finding this so funny, at the time and now. But really, some days, this is all I've got.
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