Ok, so I’m late. Very late. In fact, I wasn’t going to bother. That’s the kind of mood I’m in: a feeling-so-jack-of-it-all-and-sorry-for-myself-that-the-thought-of-being-grateful-for-anything-sends-my-body-into-violent-convultions kind of a mood.
But then I’m sitting at the dining table, drinking my second can of Southern Comfort (my inner child is in need of comfort right now), I’m staring at my closed laptop and am beginning to tear up as I wonder what the fuck I’m going to do with myself. It’s at this point I realise what I need is a good dose of “count thy blessings thou ungrateful prat”.
So here I am, and I am grateful for:
1. Southern Comfort and the husband who thought to buy it for me when he got an SMS on Friday afternoon saying “Any time now would be good. Forget the milk.” Yes, he does get it. Kind of.
2. Herbs in the back yard – there’s nothing quite like a salad dressed with the freshest of the fresh.
3. Being so privileged that the greatest problem I face is finding a way to nurture and satisfy myself while nurturing and satisfying my two healthy children, my marriage, my household, blah blah blah.
4. Maxabella for giving me a way to remember that it ain’t all that bad… mostly.
Lots of people are grateful for lots of things at Maxabella’s