It’s been proven that pics of cute puppies (or kittens for that matter — we’re non-discriminatory here) grab readers’ attention. I don’t know where I’m going with that random statement except for the fact that the above photo pretty much sums up my current mental status. Minus the cuteness factor, I’m sure.
I’m more like the gnarly frayed rope stretched out in between the cute. See it there? Yes, that’s the one. It’s often overlooked, I understand. Much like that rope, I feel like I’ve been chewed on, slobbered on, and generally stretched too thin.
With the holidays approaching, this wallowing in self-pity is usually exacerbated. I often feel torn between opposite poles. Even though I’m a grown woman of forty-something, there is the not-so-simple logistics of coordinating multiple family events (the product of divorced parents and in-laws) with various children’s activities, personal commitments and the like.
All this while juggling a full-time management position and trying to find time for my own endeavors, namely writing a novel or two, not including the ones that are but sparks in my already sleep-addled brain. The aforementioned affliction stemming from a certain (although undeniably cute) pain-in-the-ass tabby cat who insists on harassing me an hour early each and every morning. I’ve attempted to explain to him the concept of ‘no food until the alarm goes off’ to no avail. Shame on me for thinking the law of Pavlov’s Dog would also apply to him.
I feel like I need to take a deep breath and a step back. To push forward to regain my strength for that eventual pull that finally wins it all.
But, I also don’t want to miss out on anything in the meantime. The inevitable push and pull draws me in every single time. I want to play along. I just wish there was a scenario where I didn’t fall face first down in the mud.
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