"Why does life have to be so f*cking difficult?"
I said that under my breath while an ice-cream cone dripped in one hand, a cup of diet coke was in the other, and I was trying to open the door to the Xterra.
Life at that moment was really f*cking difficult.
This live-in-the-moment-kind-of-girl felt like an idiot as soon as the words left my mouth and entered the atmosphere.
In the grand scheme of things, life at that moment was a cake walk. I had ice cream. A diet coke. A vehicle. This computer in my purse. A beautiful day. My brother's vehicle.
If I were to make a statement like that, it should've been at any other moment in my day when actual crisises besides dripping ice-cream were looming. Those moments were the cake walk.
Since when did dripping ice-cream become a problem?
Since about 20 minutes when I let it.
And that's maybe the key, and perhaps the key of this whole post, which I'm having trouble pinpointing. But maybe life is so f*cking difficult sometimes because I make it that way. Because I let it.
I was enraged yesterday over an incident at work and yet when I recounted the story in blustery detail, I couldn't bring myself to say, "She made me so mad." I had to 'fess up and admit, "I let her make me so mad."
I about went into a ballistic orbit when my internet lagged and didn't load my third window as quickly as I would've liked. Seriously had to take some deep breaths and convince myself that slow internet is better than no internet.
But my oft times bull-in-a-china-closet approach to life has me thinking.
How much power am I giving dripping ice-cream and slow internet?