As I go through my day to day life and attempt balancing things out, the equation keeps falling short. What I am angry about is the part of the equation I'm supposed to get right all the time, the constants, so to speak. That would be me.
I keep messing up in the department of when and when not to be of a sharing sort. I see more and more that sharing simply does not mean the same to most people. Pretty much I am the sharer. Everyone else just takes.
Seems like a cruel notion to think all my friends think I'm an endless supply of provisions. I'll leave the provisional noun as-is because its just downright making me angry to see where things go.
Out of my pocket. Not to be replaced or enriched by the goodness of others.
I solemnly commit to myself that in the next month that I am going to be absolutely grinchy.
It stinks to look at my calendar and see that the times I've been called by people never involve just seeing me or talking to me. There has been an underlying current of calculation that slaps me in the face with the audacity of it all.
If you must wonder what I'm being all bitchy about, email me, and I'll 'fill' you in... if it's within date. *get it?*
ACCEPTING THE SANDWICH: Moments of harsh reality can be short: so bite hard, chew and swallow. I talk about everything from marriage to kids and pretty much whatever life flings my way. The rebel in me still wants to wish in one hand. The Realist makes me wash my hands and brush profusely.
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