I did get that laundry done.
But wouldn't you know it, I already have 5 new loads staring me in the face.
I also planted those pretty little peachy begonias, a gift from a thoughtful friend.
I'm willing spring to come.
Each day since Saturday, I check the weather three times a day.
My eyes shoot straight to Thursday because it's the first day where the little picture doesn't show clouds. Also, it is supposed to be 60 degrees. This afternoon they changed it to 63!
Oh, won't it be nice to feel that sunshine?
It's a fairly harmless thing...wishing for spring, but sometimes my wishing is a little more detrimental.
Lately, my mind is relentlessly focused on the day I will live in a house again.
My own house.
And I've thought of at least two dozen reasons why life will be better when it finally happens.
Make that 4 dozen.
And the problem, I am slowing realizing,
is that lack of home ownership is not my problem.
Wouldn't it be scary if I got that house, because the day will come,
and I was not as gloriously fulfilled as I imagine I will be?
Yeah. It makes me nervous.
So I am trying to work on it.
The answer to most of my personal issues always seems to be service.
When I get sick of the amount of time I spend thinking about myself, I try to
think about other people.
I wish I could skip right to the service part, but usually it takes me a long while of moping around before I am ready to move myself out of that funk.
I like springtime for a lot of reasons, one of which is the visible passage into a new season, a new time.
I've always thought changing seasons were a good opportunity for self evaluation.
Am I any different than I was this winter?
Time, it seems, will tell.