Tantrum

October has struck.  It seems like everyone is suffering with the same moodiness and brain fog as I am.  Or maybe it just seems that way through my grey tinted spectacles.  This is my absolute favorite time of year.   I so love to be at home under a blanket (preferably with some amenable small person or a purring,  fluffy friend), reading a good book and being snug and safe.  Pajamas, slippers and hot chocolate are the accessories de rigueur. 

If only any of these had any positive impact on my, or anybody else’s, life.  Days spent this way are equivalent to attaining the childhood dream of working in a candy store.  Wonderful … for about two hours followed by a regret, malaise, and a need to retire and consider one’s actions in the smallest room in the house.

Retiring to consider one's actions

Retiring to consider one's actions

My world has shrunk down to my living room, my own comfort has become paramount and every time one of those I am blessed enough to share my home with asks what is for breakfast/lunch/dinner they get the same “Marie Antoinette” response.  This, I know, is not good for anyone.

Amusingly, whilst wallowing in laziness and removal from anything requiring the smallest amount of effort I am simultaneously having a massive tantrum.  My van died a few months ago and I’m stamping my childlike feet and crouching greedily over a blaze of righteous indignation at the fact that we can’t afford anything I consider “decent” to replace it.  I’ve managed to create this blaze by willful coveting of almost every vehicle I see,  resentment, and a carefully harvested selection of reasons why I am special and deserve an expensive vehicle.  Luckily, nowadays we have internet searches and on-line dealership inventories to further fuel the sulk furnace.  I can’t imagine the effort that went in to feeling sorry for oneself in years gone by, mooning over black and white line drawings in the newspaper perhaps?  Maybe those early cave drawings from Lascaux were simply early man resentfully  depicting his  neighbour’s auroch in order to have something to frown over during the long winter evenings.

16, 000 year old covetousness?

16, 000 year old covetousness?

It’s time to move on from this.  I’ve told God what I need, I know he’ll take care of it, all I need to do is shut up and accept what comes or, as I’ve heard it described more succinctly, “put on my big girl pants”.  And for those who know me – you know THAT is already taken care of.

Folding the big girl pants

Folding the big girl pants

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