The little things that count...

Not everything that seems bad is actually bad.  You've heard the sayings... "don't judge a book by it's cover"... "there's light at the end of the tunnel", "You have to take the good with the bad".  You need to stop, take a breath, and take note of everything that is RIGHT, instead of dwelling on everything that is wrong.  We tend to focus on the bad things, forgetting that there's a bit of good and bad in everything... How many times do you find things happening and your reply is "that's so typical" or something along those lines. Something negative. Sometimes you need to find the good in bad situations.

I have finally washed off the last of the army of ants that invaded my personal space today. I went to buy lunch for Spike- our pet spider. Oh, I didn't tell you we have a pet spider? A Curly Tarantula to be precise.  He/she (we're not really sure if its male or female) is 3 years old and fits in the palm of my hand... well, more like overflows...  Spikey seemed a little hungry last night - I stuck my hand in the tank to fill the water and "he" seemed way too interested in my hand after being on a hunger strike for 3 weeks (don't worry- water was always filled and they can go a month without eating).

My favourite time of day. I was suffering from a tension headache from hell that had rendered me useless the entire afternoon. I ran the hot water. Then added the cold- as usual.  Left it a few minutes to get ready to hop in... I turned off the cold to let the hot run again. I climbed in. Geeeez!!

I am a perfectionist.  Usually to my own detriment. You wouldn't think it by looking at me though. It's inherited.  From my dad.  The difference is, my dad is a perfectionist inside and out.  He always looks good.  I, on the other hand, often look like I've just been dragged through the bush backwards. I'm always clean and my hair and make-up done, but the clothes that make their way onto my body are usually the first ones I grab out my cupboard.  Creased or not... My dad would take out the iron and iron his shirt if there's a crease. My dad would not settle for a dirty house, neither would my mom for that matter- they can have all 7 grand children around and the house will still look great when they leave. My kitchen floor often looks like the dog's breakfast.  It probably is the dog's breakfast... and the kids'... and lunch and supper. For the past few days.  I often only notice once I've walked barefoot in the kitchen and gathered a few it

I now have an earworm... A song I used to listen to many (many) years ago... On the eve of my 40th birthday, I came to the realization that as from tomorrow, I will officially be "over the hill"... I didn't mind being made aware of that- it was more the one word -MATURE, that scared me. Me, mature? Don't make me laugh! Although I'm rather looking forward to entering my "naughty forties". Age is just a number, but its amazing how that word "mature" is still haunting my thoughts... I'm still young at heart - a hippy - free spirit. I love playing and re-living the years gone by. I'm a responsible adult, mother and always ensure I'm doing any job I'm given my full attention (even if I'm day-dreaming through many parts of it).