It’s grey and overcast and typical of living on the west coast of Canada. You would think this homespun girl would be use to this weather, but there are days it brings me down to unspeakable depths.
Often, I will watch back to back episodes of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills admittedly not for the content but to see the blue sky, green grass, sparkling ocean and to visualize that warmth upon my own winter dried skin. The ocean rocking at my doorstep at the moment is stormy and dark and brooding, much like my own personality as of late.
I have been living under a cloud of thoughts and a bit of sadness over giving up an ideal dream of mine, of his, of ours. Compounding upon this is the visual out my window of our own version of 50 shades of grey, in the true literal sense.
This sadness will pass, most assuredly. It always does. In the meantime, the only thing that brings a smile to my face is this ridiculous distraction of the ongoing flatulence feud between myself and my better half in our somewhat foul home. Imagine many cans of beans and a woman who is just as determined as the man she lives with in getting even. Ahhh, I see the realization donning upon your face. Yes, it isn’t pretty.
And even though today is one of those days that feels all shot to hell, I do know that my colon is clean as a whistle, so I suppose in the greater scheme of things, that is a positive upshot.
And the fact that my dog was nearly gassed to death under our bed sheets last night is a positive indication that I may undoubtedly be winning this gas war.
Yes, I know disgusting, but every now and then a girl struck down with sads really needs a good laugh, even if it is at the expense of her poor little dog.
Besides, this girl.... has got to do what this girl can, to dig herself out of the February blues.
Until Next Time,
Tracy
Often, I will watch back to back episodes of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills admittedly not for the content but to see the blue sky, green grass, sparkling ocean and to visualize that warmth upon my own winter dried skin. The ocean rocking at my doorstep at the moment is stormy and dark and brooding, much like my own personality as of late.
I have been living under a cloud of thoughts and a bit of sadness over giving up an ideal dream of mine, of his, of ours. Compounding upon this is the visual out my window of our own version of 50 shades of grey, in the true literal sense.
This sadness will pass, most assuredly. It always does. In the meantime, the only thing that brings a smile to my face is this ridiculous distraction of the ongoing flatulence feud between myself and my better half in our somewhat foul home. Imagine many cans of beans and a woman who is just as determined as the man she lives with in getting even. Ahhh, I see the realization donning upon your face. Yes, it isn’t pretty.
And even though today is one of those days that feels all shot to hell, I do know that my colon is clean as a whistle, so I suppose in the greater scheme of things, that is a positive upshot.
And the fact that my dog was nearly gassed to death under our bed sheets last night is a positive indication that I may undoubtedly be winning this gas war.
Yes, I know disgusting, but every now and then a girl struck down with sads really needs a good laugh, even if it is at the expense of her poor little dog.
Besides, this girl.... has got to do what this girl can, to dig herself out of the February blues.
Until Next Time,
Tracy
