For the record, my new positive attitude for the new year was tested about five minutes before I went to bed last night. My mistake was reviewing our new insurance premium. Strange thing to look at right before bed, I know, but the mail was scattered on our bed along with laundry waiting to be put away, and the envelope with our insurance company's return address caught my eye. We recently added our son to our auto insurance. Our seventeen-year old son. Need I say more?
That positive attitude was suddenly in an extreme tug-a-war with the oh-so-comfortable negative, pessimistic attitude that has accompanied me for a while now. How in the world are we gonna pay that extra? Yes, I know some of you are thinking We? How 'bout he? We all have opinions on that and I am certainly not up for debate on the subject. The boy is looking for a job in the same environment that I am having trouble locating work. He is on track for a scholarship to a technical college after his senior year doing the work he loves. Work will come. He has a whole life ahead for that.
After repeating several times in my mind positive! Positive! POSITIVE!, I turned out the light still grumbling out loud. My husband told me in so many words to "can it" and "go to sleep". So that's what I did. I slept soundly and woke up with my positive attitude intact.
And the day went pretty good. I even ventured out for a latte (courtesy of my dad's Starbuck's gift) and decided I would try the non-fat version they were pushing. Yeah. I won't make that mistake again. The pre-planned barbeque for supper was a big hit as always (even if I did have my buttons pushed a few times at the dinner table) and I even managed to stay calm while my husband headed to the attic (twice) with gun in-hand to attempt to eliminate the woodpecker that has chosen our home as his (her?) refuge. I realize I'm doing a lot of patting myself on the back here, but hey, the battle in my mind knows no relief. I take what I can get.
Now the television is on and the show we're watching is making me want to cry. I hate that. I would turn it off, but two out three kids are totally engrossed in the drama. The only good thing is that I could potentially have a welcomed cry and blame it on the tv. But then that would blow my positive attitude. And I'm not ready to give it up yet.
I still have the woodpecker to deal with.
And a husband with a gun.
And a seventeen-year old driver.
No more skinny lattes for me.
I'm going after the real stuff tomorrow, Dad.
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