Dear you,
Yes, the condo complex is loaded with visitors and most of
the owners who live here have escaped.
However, the scene is not typically 30A obnoxious and even the visiting
children are in chill mode. You would
think I would be thankful for that. But
oh no. I lapsed into spoiled mode today
and had to work my way out of the pouty zone; I dealt with first world problems
like this:
The Publix New York Cheesecake looked dry and dated, an insult to that great state.
Some idiot parked his massive truck in MY favorite parking spot here at condo world.
The lawn care
workers are using those loud blower things again and annoying me.
The owner of the
unit downstairs has still not replaced his filthy “welcome” door rug.
The Danskin brand
yoga pants I love are no longer available.
The expiration
date on my lunch yogurt was yesterday.
Trump is still tweeting.
Tough stuff, right? Flipping the view of the above complaints:
I can afford food.
I own a car.
Human beings take care of my property.
The downstairs owner’s rug says “welcome” instead of “fuck off”.
I still look good in yoga pants.
I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch anyway.
Trump lost; democracy is holding.
All that.
Amazing. And so much more. I am grateful X 1,000 for so many simply pleasures:
deep breathing, morning pushups, tossing
yarn balls to the feline, eating Progresso soup loaded with hot sauce while
watching Friends reruns, roaming the beach during low-visitor phases, smoking
on the balcony at dusk, sipping cervezas during NFL viewings, splashing cold
water on my face in the morning, re-reading Gore Vidal books, stretching, and just
. . . being.
Happy Gratitude Day.
Enjoy everything.
Love,
Joyce
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