I’ve been ridiculously stressed, well, my whole life, but more than usual the last several months. I’ve also done my fair share of berating myself for not keeping up with this blog or any other form of writing. I kick myself about daily. I’ve had my hands full and I know that’s not an excuse. The only viable excuse would be if I were dead, or in a coma. Though I feel like I’m ready to slip into a coma on a regular basis due to a terrible quality and quantity of sleep due to allergies that never let up, I am not actually incapacitate enough to defend not typing even the smallest paragraph. I need to take time away from my hand-wringing and perfecting my resting-bitch-face, to spill onto paper what’s sloshing around in my head. There’s a visual.
Anyway, the point of this post is not to point out my short-comings but rather why I’m lucky. It’s because I have someone in my life that has it worse than I could imagine having it and she still puts me ahead of herself. *d* surprised me with flowers at work today. I read the note and got a goofy grin on my face–much like the one on the smiley face balloon attached to the bouquet–that I couldn’t shake well into the evening. It’s these sorts of things that remind me that I am loved and thought highly of even when I don’t feel that way about myself. I’m reminded how lucky I am. There is someone who thinks I’m awesome even when I’m kicking my own ass for being what I feel is lazy. I love you, too, *d*. The flowers are beautiful and you are too!