One of life’s stupid little mysteries

As usual, the new month is starting off with GREAT (ha ha) promise. I’m treating my Affirmation—“If something about my life is bothering me, I take care of it right away”—like it’s the law of the land and have already dealt with six or seven small irritations. For example, for about two months now I have considered my stainless-steel bathroom cup too gross to actually drink out of. It took five minutes to scrub it clean with baking soda this afternoon.

(Why do I do things like this? Why? Why? Why?)

Dealing with the long-neglected scarf is satisfying, too. At first I wasn’t sure why I would have let the project lapse in the first place, since it was about two-thirds done and looked great. When I picked it up again yesterday, I remembered what the roadblock was: I was running short on navy blue yarn and was going to have to run to the store to try to match it. Instead I decided to just run upstairs to my GIANT drawer of abandoned hopes and dreams yarn and use the closest thing I had. It turned out that I have owned a nearly perfect match all along, which leads me again to the obvious question: Why do I do things like this? Why? Why? Why?

Designed with (and for) my color-blind son.