Sunday, November 8

I'm a hazard to myself

It's Sunday.

I want to write something sweet and lovely and uplifting.

But I can't think of anything.

Today when I was getting ready for church, I put on a sparkly black shirt I bought last year.  I liked the psuedo-Asian feel of it and the bell sleeves.  And I wore it once (for a Christmas concert with the MCC).  And today it doesn't fit.  Sadly, it's not way too big.  It's too small.  And that made me angry with myself.  

The kids are outside fighting playing.  It's a beautiful, warm day with a vast blue sky that stretches out forever. 

But I am sitting inside.  (With no plans to change that.)

And Carly just came in with a very special rock from outside.  It's special, she says again before running off to set it on her dresser.  She is sure to pirouette along the way. 

I am jealous of her light-hearted-ness.

"Why are you guys inside!?" I ask, a little too loud, because both the kids have migrated inside.  I'm annoyed with them, frustrated with myself, and feeling a little bit sorry for myself.  Okay, a lot sorry for myself.

It's just one of those days where despite the goodness and grace that fills my life, I'm out of sorts and unhappy.

I think I need chocolate.