Some of my most inept friends can use a hot glue gun. Small children can use a hot glue gun. Why can't I?
Yesterday was the kind of very bad day where I should have just gone back to bed at any number of times. It wasn't the kind of very bad day where anyone died or wrecked the car or something dramatic. No, it was just the kind of grinding bad day that we all get occasionally, the kind of day where things aren't quite right, and they don't righten at all during the day.
Spin class was blah. I didn't get enough sleep, not overnight and no naptime. I thought I would accomplish some art projects for the upcoming Create in Me retreat, and ended up feeling snarly about my husband, who said things like "Are you making a bird or a ghost?" Another attempt: "That looks like a fish. Or a rabbit."
I kept trying to make the day better, and kept failing miserably. I kept trying to use the hot glue gun, and kept burning myself and inanimate objects. I now have huge blisters on several fingers and my leg. I had to cut glue out of the carpet. Why didn't I quit while I was ahead?
Finally, at the end of the day, when nothing good was on T.V. (is anything good ever on T.V.?), we watched the late 80's miniseries Lonesome Dove, which we have on DVD. What a treat. It reminds me that my life is actually pretty good, even though I'm having a bad day (I'm fairly safe in my current life as a woman, unlike the characters in the movie; I don't have to struggle to eke out a living, like those characters). It's full of cowboy wisdom. It appeals to the side of myself that fell in love with Little House on the Prairie.
I might have salvaged the day if I had just put away my hot glue gun and taken a nap. Instead, I burned myself again and again. Most days, I'm better at knowing what I need and making sure I do some self-care. Yesterday, I wasn't. And now, I'll have some blisters to remind me of what I should have known all along.
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