I'm tryin' ya'll. I feel like every time I open my mouth (or fingers - which just sounds wrong, but you know, to type) I end up whining. Like a whiny little baby.
Yesterday I was trying so hard to be funny about the dryer. Mainly because after I was done hyperventilating and screaming about how I would never, ever, ever live like normal people and waking everyone up in the house with my hysterics, it was funny. Okay, well, after a good night's sleep it was funny. In that laugh or cry kind of way. My point is that I was trying to be funny when I was telling about it because someone should get some enjoyment out of my misery, right?
But it wasn't funny. I see that now. It was "Poor, pitiful me. You should worry about me and my horrible, ridiculous laundry issue." I try to maintain some perspective in life. You know, with a few exceptions, bad stuff just avoids me. I'm incredibly blessed to be walking around without a horrible disease, or a missing limb. I'm incredibly lucky to be sitting in my kitchen, rather than out in the street, to be feeding my kids decently nourishing food (when they will deign to eat it) and to be trudging to work instead of the unemployment office. I got it good and I got no room to whine, is what I'm saying, here.
Also, I went home last night and decided I didn't trust the husband to fix the dryer and took apart what he had done and found some type of animal nest in my dryer vent and once I ripped that all out and re-attached everything - guess what - my dryer's not even broken. All that angst over nothing that was really ever a problem.
It turns out that God doesn't want me to wear dirty clothes, He wants me to quit being such a damn drama queen and fix something instead of worrying about how it'll never, ever be okay. Which is good advice. (Of course, God doesn't typically give crappy advice, it's misinterpretation.) He probably also wants me to remember this the next time I'm lecturing Brynna about being a drama queen and telling her that defeatist attitudes like that are like poisoning yourself. She gets that from somewhere, you know. Also my grandmother, who I am always lecturing about being a pessimist. I guess I get it from somewhere, too.
In any case, I need to find my happy, or my funny or something. I'm not nearly as miserable as I sound.
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