Some mornings I just feel like throwing up. That’s how enthused I am. It’s not about who I am or is it? I have many mornings like this. When I was still working, I often start the day by telling people I am grouchy. I want to let them know that it’s not personal. It was how I was feeling (my physicality and my brain chemistry) at the time. Mornings can be tough when you have to get up at the crack of dawn, walk the dog and be at work for 7:30. Most of the time I feel like a sleepy grumpy bear.

I’m lumbering around this morning, heavy and slow footed. There’s not an ounce of joie de vivre in me. I could lay on the couch all day. I see the crumbs and dog hair on the floor. They seem magnified and multiplying. I like to turn a blind eye but they irk the hell out of me. I sigh and take the big bic of a vacuum stick off its charger. I would just like to make a cursory round on the floor. But I know about all the dog hair under the legs of the chairs and stools. I heave another big sigh and painfully pulled them off. Then there’s the kitchen mat to shake out.

The kitchen and dining room are done. I even took a damp mop to give the hardwood a shine. It wasn’t that difficult now that it’s done. It’s a distant memory. I have to keep that in mind for the next time and forever. Difficult is however difficult you want to make it. I remember my mother telling me, don’t include difficult or hard in your vocabulary. Mothers have a way of always being right.

Now that the difficulties are out of the way, I can make something of my day. I’ve gotten up and shown up but haven’t dressed up. Guess what I am going to do next?

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