Alright, it was easy to come up with stuff I hate today.
I keep reading these gratitude entries on Facebook. Am I missing something? Would I feel better if I were grateful about something instead of venting about stuff that drives me nuts? Would that make me a better person? I don't know. It just feels so right to have a place where I can sit down and just bitch, bitch, bitch.
So, here is my anti-gratitude thought for the day.
I hate when the dog takes his slimy kibbles, one at a time, to a place on the carpet to eat them. Eat the slimy kibbles out of your bowl! What is the deal with that?
So as I was cooking dinner, I dropped a buttery cube of squash on the kitchen floor just a bit ago. No big deal. It's a vinyl floor. Without thinking, I yelled, "Uh oh!"
That's the word I trained the dog to hear when I'd dropped something on the floor that he could eat. See, sweet potatoes are all the rage at the funky dog food stores and my dog is one of those crazy dogs that love these treats. It figures. It would be nice to toss him a Milkbone once in a while and be done with it. Whenever anyone hands him a Milkbone, he takes it gingerly and then drops it with a look that says, 'You expect me to eat that?'
So when the dog came running in to find out what I dropped and didn't want to have to pick up, he was excited to see that it was related to his beloved sweet potatoes. And there was butter! Instead of gobbling it up the way any normal dog would do, he carefully picked it up without dislodging any butter from it onto his tongue. Then, he walked into the living room, to his designated eating spot, and proceeded to wipe all that butter onto my carpet.
My carpet used to be a very pale green. Just picture a cream carpet with a sage tint. It was lovely. It was wool and very thick. I loved my carpet.
Now? Not so much. After twenty-one years of dogs, cats, and boys eating, puking, peeing, and pooping on it, my carpet has just about had it. Oh, there are places where it is still that lovely thick sage carpet that I used to know and love, like behind the couch and under the piano, but mostly it's gray with small spots of brown clustered around busy areas. I still try, however, and get it professionally cleaned every year or so.
Why bother, you might say.
If I give up on this, what keeps them from pulling down the sheetrock and spreading bales of straw around on the floor?
I always promised myself that I'd have place where people felt comfortable walking in with their shoes on, where they could put their feet up on the couch without embarrassment. Those places never feel comfortable. I tell you that I've never been invited to sit in one friend's living room. It is a place to view, not a place to have a conversation over coffee.
But still, I could do without the little brown buttery spots in the middle of the living room floor.
Thank you for listening, jules
I keep reading these gratitude entries on Facebook. Am I missing something? Would I feel better if I were grateful about something instead of venting about stuff that drives me nuts? Would that make me a better person? I don't know. It just feels so right to have a place where I can sit down and just bitch, bitch, bitch.
So, here is my anti-gratitude thought for the day.
I hate when the dog takes his slimy kibbles, one at a time, to a place on the carpet to eat them. Eat the slimy kibbles out of your bowl! What is the deal with that?
So as I was cooking dinner, I dropped a buttery cube of squash on the kitchen floor just a bit ago. No big deal. It's a vinyl floor. Without thinking, I yelled, "Uh oh!"
That's the word I trained the dog to hear when I'd dropped something on the floor that he could eat. See, sweet potatoes are all the rage at the funky dog food stores and my dog is one of those crazy dogs that love these treats. It figures. It would be nice to toss him a Milkbone once in a while and be done with it. Whenever anyone hands him a Milkbone, he takes it gingerly and then drops it with a look that says, 'You expect me to eat that?'
So when the dog came running in to find out what I dropped and didn't want to have to pick up, he was excited to see that it was related to his beloved sweet potatoes. And there was butter! Instead of gobbling it up the way any normal dog would do, he carefully picked it up without dislodging any butter from it onto his tongue. Then, he walked into the living room, to his designated eating spot, and proceeded to wipe all that butter onto my carpet.
My carpet used to be a very pale green. Just picture a cream carpet with a sage tint. It was lovely. It was wool and very thick. I loved my carpet.
Now? Not so much. After twenty-one years of dogs, cats, and boys eating, puking, peeing, and pooping on it, my carpet has just about had it. Oh, there are places where it is still that lovely thick sage carpet that I used to know and love, like behind the couch and under the piano, but mostly it's gray with small spots of brown clustered around busy areas. I still try, however, and get it professionally cleaned every year or so.
Why bother, you might say.
If I give up on this, what keeps them from pulling down the sheetrock and spreading bales of straw around on the floor?
I always promised myself that I'd have place where people felt comfortable walking in with their shoes on, where they could put their feet up on the couch without embarrassment. Those places never feel comfortable. I tell you that I've never been invited to sit in one friend's living room. It is a place to view, not a place to have a conversation over coffee.
But still, I could do without the little brown buttery spots in the middle of the living room floor.
Thank you for listening, jules
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