I won’t delete the last entry, in the interest of transparency, but I can’t leave it at the top of the page. I’m not a girl of constant sorrows, as much as my blog seems to portray me as such.
Most moments, I am quietly happy. I am very easily pleased. That my Dad called today, just to ask if I was feeling better, and if I’d like to come over for lunch this week, made me irrepressibly happy. The fact that he sounded leaps and bounds better than a few weeks ago made me even more joyous. Maybe it isn’t too late for daughterhood.
That I played Rockband, singing for hours, spending quality time with Kora, and occasional appearences by the kiddos, to share my soda and microphone, made me actually smile. I know. Shocking.
The pasta I made for dinner (equal parts butter and Vodka sauce) made me happily content, and the lack of friedness made my stomach rejoice. The limeade currently on my nightstand is keeping me deliciously unthirsty.
Now, if only I didn’t have to cap the day with a chapter on neurotransmitters and various secretions. Ah, a girl can dream…