I’ve been feeling really happy over the past few months. Actually, happy isn’t the right word.
I’ve been feeling very content.
I’m happy too, but I think the contentment is the important piece of the puzzle.
I don’t want to jinx it, but I’m wondering if it’s a sign that the hormonal storm of the past few years might finally be abating.
I haven’t sobbed uncontrollably in the shower for AGES and I’m coping much better with daily challenges.
I’ve been feeling pretty awesome. Tired and old, but awesome.
I know people who are disappointed or angry that life hasn’t turned out the way they wanted. They feel something is missing that they can’t quite put their finger on … or they’re constantly looking for someone to blame when things don’t go according to plan.
That’s not me. There are moments when I think the universe is being very unfair, but I move on quickly.
I would like more money and less worry, but I also know that I’m pretty lucky in the grand scheme of things.
As the years pass – a little too quickly – I’ve decided that laughter and love and natural beauty matter much more than material possessions.
I sound like a hippy dippy chick, but if you’ve met me you’ll know I’m the opposite of that. I’m wry and pragmatic, but I seem to have gone a bit soft on the inside (as well as around my middle) in recent years.
And I think I’m finally learning to go with the external flow … ironically, just when the internal one has gone.
Anyways, enough philosphising …
On the subject of things invariably going wrong along the way … I realised yesterday morning that I’d accidentally thrown away the electronic access key to my work parking spot.
And a garbage truck had just emptied my bin.
Not ironic, Alanis, just unlucky.
The little piece of plastic is normally on my key ring, but during COVID-19 it’s been sitting in a tattered envelope, being shared with one of my workmates on our separate visits to the office. I cleared out some of the mess in my car on Saturday and the tattered envelope was absent-mindedly thrown into the recycling bin.
It was only when I got into the car yesterday morning, a few hours after the weekly garbage trucks had completed their run, that I realised what I’d done.
Nooooooooo! I was so furious with myself, but I didn’t lose the plot … not even when I had to pay $110 to the building manager for a new one. I’ve asked for a receipt in the hope I can claim it on tax. Fingers crossed.
Gaye my work buddy has put the new one on a lanyard to ensure it doesn’t end up in the bin again.
I’ve just added the incident to the long list of crap 2020 has delivered.
Bloody 2020. Bloody middle-aged absent mindedness.
Song of the day: Garbage “Stupid girl”