Today was rough. One of those days that kicks you in the pants.
My morning looked like this:
- I slipped in wet cleaner on the floor (applied after our 16 year old surly ass cat decided to pee on the floor, next to a clean litter box and pheromone infuser, for the umpteenth time).
- I bobbled, and ultimately dropped, several rubber dog treat toys on the way into the kitchen, spewing dog treat crumbs down the hall.
- I realized my new ‘awesome’ jeans are definitely too long and just a tad too loose.
- I hobbled around doing the dog-walk-shower-makeup-hair-getting-ready-before-work routine amidst a killer, and unfortunately not uncommon, stomach ache.
My mid-day and afternoon didn’t look much better; I struggled today. It was hormones, apathy, incredulity and a desire to be wearing a different outfit. It was too little headphones and too much office tele-confer-eavesdropping.
They are small struggles, I realize. Teeny in a sea of awesome. But communication is key—the goods and the bads and the in-betweens.
I did focus on Buddy Miles today, which I’m grateful for. A drummer and singer with soul to spare, a silken slice of vintage sound. Recommended listening: https://open.spotify.com/album/6Kr0V00FNt8Xn3Dk3opAVb.
