This week I've been surviving, and I'm okay with that.
I've gotten out of bed everyday with my husband. Okay, maybe one day I slacked and needed to cocoon myself under the covers a little longer. I've been on a kick of waking up at 3am wide awake, my mind racing with all the things I want to be doing rather than sleeping. None of which are things I should be doing at 3am, but while I find sleep boring my body punishes me when I don't get enough. I actually found myself standing in the kitchen this morning staring at nothing in particular because my brain hadn't quite caught up with my body. It was one of those mornings where you need a cup of coffee to be able to make your coffee. I'm sure this is why Starbucks exists.
I need to file my quarterly business taxes this week because the state keeps sending me email reminders. Yes, I get it, you want your money. I got all my business expenses categorized and entered into QuickBooks in an attempt to be organized and ready to file. But, I can't actually file taxes because they confuse the hell out of me. When I read tax instructions it's like there is a little voice in the back of my head going "blah blah blah..." This is when I usually look at my brilliant, handsome husband with puppy eyes and beg for help.
I also spent a lot of time fiddling with my sewing machine for a new project I'm working on. I broke a needle on the machine and wasted more time ripping out stitches than actually sewing any. I've concluded my husband is better with the machine thing as I had to do more begging for help when he came home from work. I take solace in the knowledge that I know more about football than him.
I could choose to feel down, unaccomplished, or unintelligent after this week, but I'm not. Because I survived. I didn't dwell too much on the bad. I had moments, but I embraced them and thought about the positive. The hoops I sold, the cool new things I stitched, evenings with my husband and a glass of wine on our patio, my weekly call to my soul sister (who I'm ridiculously proud of), my sweet shadow dog acting like a complete dingo with a new toy, and the lack of dead creatures my serial killer cat brought home for me to clean up.
It's not all rainbows and unicorns and I don't ever expect it to be. I'm still a realist or maybe pessimist is a better word to describe me. But I can settle for survival. Actually, I can embrace survival and maybe even strive for a miniature unicorn. It will probably be cranky and ornery like a shetland pony, but hey a unicorn is still a unicorn.
Keep surviving and striving for those unicorns.
