I should be in bed already. But I'm not.
I can't sleep again and I don't know why.
The dentist today revealed I need a root canal and another crown -- but that is all. I feared it would be much much worse and it wasn't. For that, I'm grateful.
When I got to the office, someone had bought me lunch. I was grateful.
When I went to run my errands after work, I learned the lines were too long. Instead, I decided to break up the errands over the next two days of my lunch break, effectively both getting me out of the office and accomplishing my goal. I was grateful.
I got some unexpected cash in the mail the other day. It was awesome. Today, I learned my new dental bill was nearly the exact same of the amount of unexpected cash I received. I was grateful.
My juicer arrived, giving me hope that maybe I can reverse some of my health in lasting and meaningful ways. I was grateful.
My air conditioner still works. I'm still grateful.
My friend replied to my text. He doesn't always. I was grateful.
My hair is almost dry from being in the shower. It's soft, smooth and silky. I'm reminded that I'm the only one here to touch it.
My dog prances out of the back bedroom, surprised that I'm still up. He's asking to squeeze between my thigh and the arm of the couch.
Request granted.
Sometimes, when I'm driving home from work, I find I go off on all sorts of things while I'm driving -- in a good way. It would make really good podcast material. I know from previous experience, if I put the recorder on while I drive, I find myself censoring what I want to say and it doesn't come out nearly as smooth. Haven't yet figured out a solution to that.
I'm angry with myself that I often censor myself out of my own fears. Justifiable fears. Sometimes, it's better to keep quiet. But I censor myself nonetheless.
Plus, people aren't always willing to hear what you say, when it's laced with expletives, name calling and layers of beautiful insult-laced adjectives, even though that's sometimes exactly how the message needs to be delivered.
I don't feel like speaking like that all the time. I try to apply my anger constructively.
To be honest though? Sometimes, I just don't want to give a fuck. About anyone or anything. When I wrote this, "fuck" felt like the perfect word. Forty-five minutes later, it doesn't.
And no matter what I want or how I feel, it doesn't stop responsibility, bills, obligations and a million other little things that must be done on a regular basis.
But at some point, I have to go to sleep.
The dog already is. He's snoring.
Image Source: Unsplash
Update: White noise of rain on YouTube did the trick. And yes, I'm grateful.
