Today is going to be challenging to hold onto the positivity. Nothing is coming through on the income front (and I’m about to get stiffed again tomorrow on a promised loan repayment. Yeah, I read your Facebook page. You could be an adult and let me know, but no, I have to chase you) and I’m finding nothing but scams on the housing front (Craigslist. I get my final paycheck tomorrow, so I’ll sign up for West Side Rentals) unless it’s “transitional” housing (You just got out of rehab/jail and need a place to live. NO! NO FUCKING WAY! NO!). Given the demise last season plus the lack of good trading off-season plus the bad thumbs of Josh Buckett (I spelled it that way deliberately. If you follow the Red Sox closely, you know he was the ringleader in the fried chicken and beer scandal. Probably hurt his thumb slipping in grease) and Bailey, the closer (pulling his out of his ass, no doubt), the Red Sox aren’t likely to lift my spirits today.
However, I have friends. Friends who send me pictures like this:
And it came with the message, “What I wish for you, my friend...a new home, FULL of money!!!” I keep returning to that picture and post (Facebook) to remind myself that while I don’t have everything I want, I’ve got some damned good stuff.
I got a call from my hair stylist. I haven’t been able to see her in over a year (she’s expensive and worth every cent), but she keeps in touch. I know a couple of people who are genuinely and thoroughly kind and generous of spirit (I am not one of them. I can very kind, but I can also be hell on wheels). Kindness is in short supply in the world. She told me she believes in me and my ability to overcome my issues. If it was possible to reach 90 miles to hug someone, I would have.
With friends like that, you really can’t spend an entire day in Slug Mode (no shower, pajamas all day, in extreme cases, you don’t even brush your teeth).
I have brushed my teeth, taken my vitamins, braided my hair (Yoga day. A ponytail gets in the way of mat work. A braid lies flat) and applied deodorant. You can’t be a slug with Lady Speed Stick in the armpits.
And Universe, while I am trusting you to deliver what I want, I remind you that I am willing to employ blows to your gonads to make you drop them.