I call the last four school days The Week What Would Not End. And here we are at Finkday, and it’s still not over.
Lately, there has been much frustration in my world, on many fronts. Just about all fronts, actually. Good thing the Thriller provides comic relief, or I’d have likely committed some flavor of misdemeanor by now.
Why, why, why do we give others permission to do such damage to our brains and emotions, when we know darn good and well that the other party (the one doing the damage) is hardly affected at all? It’s the cruelest form of self-flagellation. I call a stop to it.
Know what I need to do? Spend tonight getting some work done, then have some fun tomorrow night with the Js at our sleepover. Instant therapy. Then Sunday, I need to cook; update the Comfort Foodie blog. I have three or four recipes in the queue, so it’s time to get on it. Cooking/baking always makes me feel better. Beats the heck out of wasting time bemoaning my fate — especially when my fate includes so many wonderful people and situations.
Hey, thanks for the texts, Facebook comments and emails about beau chien Rousseau. His surgery went well, and both tumors were successfully removed and sent to the lab. It was a distinct relief and pleasure to wrap his evening pain pill in some bread and feed it to him last night, after which I watched him slide into sleepyville. He’s still upstairs with the Thriller, sawing lumber. I hope he has a better day today.
I hope I do too. Oy.
Off we go, all of us. It’s almost the weekend! (even though it’ll never get here)
Fink, eternal optimist