Waiting

I mentioned this on an earlier post, but I've been reading "What Happy People Know." Some of it is really good, some garbage, and a bunch of information in between.

One of the good parts that is really super easy to forget (as evidenced by my earlier breakdown this week where I thought the sky was falling and it turns out it wasn't) is that by focusing on the good things in life, your outlook tends to be rosier and then good things happen to you. When you dwell on all the negatives, your outlook is bleak. You end up bringing more negativity into your life because that's what you're looking for, that's what your antennas are up for.

This is kind of a hard concept for someone like myself to actually apply to my own life, because I'm a Catastrophe Planner. I like to have a fallback plan so that on any given day if the Worst Case Scenario happens, I'll know exactly what to do and how to handle it, and it won't be such a shock to my system.

Yeah. I know.

That just isn't how life works.

So I'm letting go! Imagine that, I'm going to try to let go of some of my catastrophe plans and let life happen, good and bad.

In an attempt to focus on the positive, I'd like to explain a little more about the Big Brown Moron that we affectionately call Ruby.

I know I've complained a lot about Ruby lately, especially the workload she's brought to my life. And that's true, she's a lot of work right now.

But you know what? I love her. Ruby, more than anyone else in this house, is my constant companion. Ruby would choose me hands down over anyone else in a competition. Binnie was my dog, I had her when I met my husband. But the second she met him, she fell in love and hasn't been my dog since that day. She would forsake me in a red hot minute if it meant she could lay around with my hubs. She spends time with me out of spite and because there's no one else who's willing to give her constant eye drops to keep her one blind eye from swelling out of her head. And because that time when my husband put his hand in dog poop he instantly fell out of love with her and hasn't loved her since then.

But Ruby? Ruby was supposed to be for N. A guy's dog, a manly dog. And she loves me! If I walk down the driveway to take the garbage cans to the street, she's right at the gate waiting for me, wishing with every ounce of her being that she was on the other side of the fence. But polite enough not to try to squeeze through the bars, unlike her unruly older sister who regularly does such a thing.

Ruby is my girl. She's a pretty cool girl, too. So the next time I'm pissing and moaning about how hard it is to raise her up right and how much time it takes out of my day, just ignore me. I must have put my happy-ness book down for a minute.