For someone who goes on and on about kindness and spirituality, I can be a bit of a bitch. Just a tiny bit. Sometimes…
A ‘bitch’ in the best sense of the word darlings, of course. Only in the most fabulous way. Or not.
It all depends on perspective.
The long and the short of it is that I let frustration get the best of me a few days ago, and well, as the story goes, someone caught hell from the pointy end of my sharp tongue.
Besides feeling a touch of regret for not just turning tail and heading home with my mouth shut and my temper tamed in the simmering pot of my mind, I felt a bit silly for not knowing my own limits.
Being treacherously independent means pushing the envelope of one’s limits, and that my juicy little plums, is my speciality. Too much obligation and nary a shenanigan makes a lady crazy.
There’s nothing better than waking up without the wail of an alarm clock, stretching out in the decadent bliss of a soft, warm bed, and deciding, without obligation to father-time, what to make of the day.
I don’t do enough of that, and that’s precisely what energizes little- old-bourbon-drinking me. This is the attitude that has carried me rather blissfully through many a day when life was scary and lonely, and exciting all at the same time.
So, here’s to being able to keep my mouth shut,my mind open, and my wildness untamed.