I should never look at the Pottery Barn catalog when I’m already in a foul mood, especially after noticing the artificial Christmas tree needles still stuck in my carpet that I haven’t had time to vacuum. All those perfect scenes, with their accessories neatly placed, and walls-painted and adorned with eclectic works d’art-they can just make me even grumpier.
You can bet that I won’t be playing around on Pinterest today. I certainly don’t need anymore reason to feel inferior.
Carson went to bed last night without stories because he yelled at me one time too many. Tate went to bed at 9 pm, silently. I wasn’t particularly proud of my parenting or my wife-ing last night, but to be fair, there were two other people who shouldn’t be proud of their behavior either. Punks.
Two wrongs don’t make a right. It’s the unresolved wrongs that invade dreams with streaky, anxiety-filled, nonsensical scenes that leave you bleary eyed in the morning.
“Never go to bed angry,” they say. Well THEY are right, but THEY are also not practical. Sometimes there’s really nothing left to be said. You just have to be angry and decide to get over it.
I guess the same should be said for my mood.
I think today needs the fancy body wash, extra mascara, and waffles. Definitely waffles. They’re scientifically proven to be mood perker-uppers. It’s true.