There By The Grace of God Go I

I'm very aware that I moan and bitch constantly about stuff, stupid stuff, nonsense really, totally unimportant stuff in the whole scheme of things. Danni is constantly rolling her eyes and shaking her head at my frequent outbursts of dismay and bitchisim… Her all too frequent reminder is "we make our own happiness, just get on and deal with it and stop bitching."

And then, just occasionally, I get a wake up call, a gentle nudge that reminds me that I have nothing to really bitch about;  the "stuff" I have to deal with no matter how devastating I may think it is at the time, is frequently nothing in comparison to what some poor souls have to deal with, a fact that's all too easily overlooked when I feel as though I'm drowning in huge a slurry of crap. 

  

I may often feel as though I have a heavy workload of "stuff" to organize and fit around everyone else's stupidly impossible schedule, but its nothing I should lose sleep over, although I do lose sleep over everything all the time.  Recently I reached a point where I was crying frequently, exhausted, and just breaking down constantly over the silliest things.  It took a hard kick in the pants from Danni to get me to shape up and start dealing with everything, take control of my life back like a responsible adult, and I actually did it, I haven't shed a tear in a month, I have a healthier happier outlook, and I'm working really hard every day to maintain my positive happy outlook.  Mind over matter does work, you just have to work at it.

While I'm house hunting here in Atlanta, I'm being very useful and driving Nic to work every day while her truck is in the shop, being made road-worthy (we hope), and every morning on my way back home through the downtown area of Atlanta, I drive through the intersection of Monroe and Boulevard, and every morning at the same place I see this poor soul, a lady probably about my age maybe a little younger, at the junction, swaying in a sort of crazy drunken dance across the road from one side to the other, waving her arms about in the air while holding a bottle or a disposable cup.  The other morning it was around 80 degrees and she was wearing a spotted fur coat that looked as if it had been pulled out of a dumpster, the poor soul was dancing across the road waving the coat like a flag.  Her filthy blond hair is in dreadlocks through neglect, and her eyes are wild and quite scary like a cornered creature, I can't help thinking every morning when I see her how terribly sad she is, and I wonder whether she has any family, a Mother or sister or even a child somewhere, people who may not even know where she, is or whats happened to her,  I can't help but feel so very sorry for her horrible situation, and the thought runs through my mind each time I see her,  "there but for the grace of God go I." Seeing her every morning is a jolt of reality, a reminder of my good fortune, and a real reason to stop bitching and complaining about nonsense...