I had a bad day yesterday.
I didn't want to have a bad day. It was our youngest boy's birthday and who can't be happy that Q. came into the world? It was also the day I nearly cashed in my chips during that whole birthing thing--seriously--so I usually take a moment on May 11 to consider how lucky I am to still be alive and that all of the transfusions didn't leave me HIV positive, which was a thing they worried about in those days.
But gah. I woke up feeling truly melancholy, missing all kinds of things and people. It didn't help that when I opened up my address book--one I've been keeping for decades now--I noticed how many friends and family have died.
And then my Avon lady came over and my dogs bothered her and the more my dogs bothered her the more nervous my Avon lady got and then they started to bark and then she started to bark (not really) and then when I locked them all up (not the Avon lady) they went crazy barking some more and I did think unto myself these thoughts:
1. Three dogs are too many.
2. I'm in over my head with three dogs.
3. I want to slap my Avon lady for being afraid of dogs.
4. Wow. Wanting to slap your Avon lady makes you a NOT NICE HUMAN BEING.
5. Why do I always take on more than I can handle in life? And thereby create chaos and messes and half-assedness wherever I touch down?
Then I woke up this morning, went outside, looked at my crazy garden with way, way, way too much going on--no one is every going to give me a prize for being tasteful and restrained and possessing an artful eyes. But I went shit.
I like this anyway.