Things I Don't Usually Say

Somehow along the line I turned nice. When did this happen? I used to have a positively acid tongue. Sometimes I even Copped An Attitude. Hard to believe, I know, but it's true.

So I'm packing up the kitchen and grumbling to myself about how much I hate packing, and how much I hate this part, where you're half-packed and everything is all messy and dirty and you can't decide if you can pack up the pots and pans yet, and basically how much I hate everything.

You know how that goes?

So I had this Nice-Girl Thought: What if I just acted-as-if I loved packing? Oooh! It's a fresh start! Ah, I can look at all my lovely (much-reduced) belongings and appreciate them all anew. Oh yes, I'm packing them all with love, and appreciation for this opportunity to be grateful for all the blessings in my life, and I'm filling my boxes with pink or white light (take your pick) and sealing them with magical sparkely fairy dust (and tape).

And then I thought: Bullshit. I hate it and that's just that. I have earned being slightly (just ever-so) grumpy.

And that made me happy. So, whatever gets you there, right?

So maybe I should be grumpy more often. Or at least, say what I mean and mean what I say.

One thing is for sure: I really do love all my kitchen things. And I am very glad I keep to keep (most) of them. Hard things = in, soft things = out. Bakeware is hard. Score!