Shortly after carrying the last of the soaked towels down to the basement, I discovered that one of our cats found an inventive way of not only telling me that the litter box needed cleaned, but also that he also didn't care for my shoes.
And this was just the first day.
The next morning, I struggled a good bit to find a way to repackage having to deal with a stubborn girl who was determined to remain horizontal rather than get ready for school. I finally settled on embracing an attitude of gratitude, while simultaneously embracing an ice-cold, wet hand towel. I succeeded in getting her out of bed without a single complaint. From me. Not from her.
Three times during my Seven Day Mental Health Diet I had the opportunity to sit quietly for long periods in my car on Interstate 64. I used the time to muse over such silly things as why traffic accidents in other states don't seem to completely close down highways the way they do around here.
Another time that same week, also while traveling on I-64, I was apparently overappreciating the ability to drive while unimpeded by clogged traffic, which enabled me to meet the nicest police officer. We conversed about speed limits and the need to obey certain laws.
So while I might not have made it through the entire seven days without complaining, I found there's something to be said for this repackaging business. If you twist something around long enough, almost anything can become sort of funny.
And once it becomes funny, irritation and resentments get washed away.
Reach Karin Fuller via email at karinful...@gmail.com.