I swore I would not go near my blog today because I just have too much stuff to do. Reallly important stuff like packing up and mailing gifts for the nieces and nephews I haven’t seen in nearly two years and cleaning my messy-ass house so I can host a visit from my stepmother which is, in some ways, an exercise in masochism. Aren’t the holidays GREAT?
As you can see, my attitude needs a little help. And to that end, I’ve done something I’m almost too embarrassed to speak of…but since we’re all basically strangers here, I guess it’s okay.
My new-age chiropracter keeps a truckload of inspirational little books around her office. This would include nearly all the Chicken Soup for the Soul books and tons of others. They’re everywhere. It’s almost impossible not to have one within 18 inches of you at any given moment. Now that I’ve set the scene and painted a picture of myself as powerless over the inspirational book onslaught, I must confess. I picked up her copy of “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (and it’s all small stuff)” and actually read a good chunk of it while waiting. Unfortunately, it gets worse. I actually found some things in this book to be relevant and thus, I checked it out of the library. I could barely face the librarian guy. There’s just something fundamentally unacceptable to me about checking out (or buying) a cheesy little book that is essentially armchair pop psychology.
But as I said, I could benefit from an attitude adjustment and being somewhat prone to hormonal fluctuations that skew reality and make little things seem gargantuan, I have decided that if a trite little book that will take no time at all to read can help me to not dread Christmas and resent my stepfamily a little less, perhaps it’s worth it.
And really, upon further reflection of my life’s most embarrassing moments, I’m reasonably sure that nothing could top my spontaneously sprouting hemhorroids while giving birth — and having my beloved husband there to witness it.
I leave you with that heartwarming picture :-)