Some things change, some things don't. I bet I was talking about how incredibly amazing my life was and how ecstatic I was to be drifting through my 2010 reality. In fact, I bet I had my hand up to say, "No Universe, stop! You're giving me too much good stuff! If you don't relent, I'm just gonna burst!"
Perhaps I'll talk about 2010 tonight . . . Or I'll put my hand up again to tell the Universe to hold back; share the love. I'm starting to feel selfish getting all these treats myself lately. Don't let me hog the broken AC, the sick cat, the skinny cat, the letter from the IRS, the OCD, the PTSD, the intrusive memories, the acute stress hives, the toothache after thousands of dollars of dental work, the other toothache after thousands of dollars more, the screeching belt after getting it fixed, the cubicle existence, the flickering of almost-forgotten mental illness, the door that won't latch, the other door that won't latch, the ghostly smell that appears in the bedroom whenever the humidity is up, the summer bugs, the leaky sink, the neighbors who yell at me in the middle of the night, a song at the cafe that feels like love, and my period nine days too early, the day I decided to wear a skirt and no panties to work.
Of course, this is nothing compared to 2010, but my cup is starting to fill, and there's always the fear that my shoelace may snap. So for now, I'll stick to wearing my velcro shoes, no matter how much the cat hair sticks to them.
In Case You Were Wondering . . .
Sometimes Ronnie D writes funny stuff. Sometimes she writes desperate teenage prose. Most times she just slams her feeble, little woman-hand onto the keyboard in an attempt to feel something, anything.