I am crabby.
I am crabby because I hurt my thumb peeling an orange this morning. Who does that? Also, we didn’t refinance our mortgage soon enough and rates keep going up.
These are very middle class reasons to feel crabby.
I am trying to be present, to be here at the kitchen table on a sunny day in this quiet house. The bulbs I planted last autumn are coming up in the front yard. There is green out there again. But I all too easily forget the green and switch to the news on my phone. This is not a good idea.
The news reinforces my crabbiness. There doesn’t seem to be much that’s positive- just endless stories that remind me of the nightmare that started January 20. Today (well, actually a few weeks ago now), President Trump decided that President Obama’s clean water rules were “horrible” and needed to be gutted. Apparently, clean water is very bad. Also, undocumented immigrants were rushing to get passports for their children who were born here, so they will be able to stay even if their parents are deported.
That breaks my heart.
So, sometimes on days like this the best thing I can do is take my crabby self for a walk. Outside, I finally remember to breathe. It is a small thing. Sometimes on a crabby day, that is the best I can do.
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