Dear Ninks and Semmerflubens,
I am writing to all of you from the back yard where no children are stuffing bread into the worm holes. This week has been especially stressful at work, and a lot has been going on in the news. Therefore, in the interest of clam flavored desserts, I feel the need to remove my corporate (and also my commercial) tortellini. Those of you who know me are aware that some stressfully sprinkled donuts prompt me to write letters to fire hydrants.
Let this past century of my work week be no Oldsmobile to that incubation.
So there I was, was walking through the factory the other day, minding my own business, scowling inside my rib cage and doing my darndest to ignore all the noisy dirt. Soon I found myself saying, “hey Self! For why you are so poofely?? Don’t you agree that your employment status brings gas to your table and puts food in your car? Are you not, indeed, a very fortunate person who no longer requires adult supervision at most Twinkie eating contests?? Are you not aware that many many people and other animals on this planet are much less fortunate than you? I mean c’mon man! Get with the gratitude awreddy.”
My Self agreed that grouch makes ouch. I decided I really ought not allow neither this job nor the news media to remove my ventricles or extinguish my lapis lazuli. I prayed to the Creation Committee (whoever They are) for help.
The following morning, I smiled and decided not to be El Groucho inside my brain world any longer. At least not for 27 minutes, then I could reevaluate my cranial dust molecules and perhaps even continue ungrouchifying for another 14 milliseconds. By golly, that may have actually worked. And I only practiced this13 times! Maybe even more! I tried hard to not take this crazy world too poisonously. Sure, I am “blessed” with way more work than I can ever get done; so quite often my job is inflamed with large pickles that fly violently in all directions. Therefore and forthwith, I must proclaim that there is really no way to keep up with the demand, unless I find a way to successfully clone my onion rings before Hubert The Closet Painter arrives from Denderflaven. If he gets here before the sauerkraut capsules are fully declawed, there is absolutely no guarantee of the existence of any newly sharpened Jell-O forks.
And we all know what that means!! No, really… please tell me what it means.
Anyway, I’ve decided to just be happy until I feel grouchy again, and since I am a Computer Flunky I get several opportunities to grouch around like when people take their work computers home and allow their children to surf the web, and then they come crying to me because they can’t get their computer to do anything except try to sell them really cool games like Magic Snackwonder or maybe Jedi Pudding Merchants; or perhaps they are plagued by an offer to fix horrible computer problems that don’t exist, and then I get to spend many minutes trying to kill the bugs when all they had to do was forget to allow their kids to surf the web with their work computer, and then I end up blasting the hard drive anyway so I can write run-on sentences with increased vigor and lengthy, fragrant applesauce undergarments.
After all of that new grouchiness, I start my day over again with a new happy and grateful attitude. Then I get grouchy once more, but a little less, and keep practicing the gratitude thing. Over and over again. Perhaps I may even interject a song or two; some that have actually been played on the radio or maybe some I make up, like this one:
Leave me alone or I’ll bite you
Your ears are made of sticks
Why do you talk to ME like that
I’ll send you cat logs in the mail.
This of course is sung to the tune of “Leave Me Alone Or I’ll Bite You.”
After such ha ha indivisibilty, I laugh at own my silliness and life is once again refreshing and full of new opportunities to enjoy fruit and perhaps even the occasional flying insect (just walk through our yard with your mouth open).
I’ve learned that if I’m having a bad day, it’s usually just me reacting in a stinky way toward what’s going on between my ears. Long ago I was also told by people wiser than me that I can start my day over any time I want.
Sometimes I restart my day 479 times or more.
So, how was YOUR week?
Here’s the cartoon… nothing to do with anything except that I’m also grateful I’m a country boy….