If he/she looks stressed
walks stressed
talks stressed
he/she probably needs ... a little longer on holiday ... another glass of wine ... a hug ... Littlest to say 'I love you' ... a warm Four-legged-friend to curl up at his/her feet ... a literary agent to write something encouraging ... a law against rejection letters/rudeness/people who fail to pick up their dog's poo ... a good night's sleep ... to wake up a stone lighter and without the appetite of a marathon runner ... a candle-lit bath, with a good book and another glass of wine ... a long walk on a sunny day without any muddy puddles and the consequent three tons of mud clinging to the bottom of his/her wellies ... French onion soup and crusty bread ... tiramisu ... a glass of drambuie ... the view and air at the top of a Scottish mountain ... his/her tax return to be magically completed and spirited away to a land of benevolent tax men ...
I could go on. And on. And on.
Why stressed? Why me? Why now? Two days ago, a good friend, in whose company we had just enjoyed dinner, commented that I "looked stressed" - I think he had a point: I was perched on the edge of my chair, weight forward, head in hands, tummy complaining about the topping-up of Christmas over-indulgences I had just force fed it, struggling to remain awake and anticipating a drive home and a week of getting back to work and preparing for a party. The party will be lovely - fantastic friends coming, a wonderful celebration of family - but lots to do in preparation. Work won't be lovely - it never is ... except that today someone bothered to say thank you for a job I had done. It is staggering how seldom that happens. This is the season of resolutions - maybe, we should all strive to say thank you more often. It does make a difference.
Other resolutions - my own: procrastinate less (perhaps! I suspect I quite enjoy procrastinating - in much the same way as I enjoy food and thereby fail to lose weight, I enjoy procrastinating because it puts off all the difficult decisions 'til tomorrow and allows time for thinking and writing poems and suchlike). And on the subject of writing, I resolve to post a blog, here, once a week.
And to be positive - 'It will all work out in the end. And if it isn't worked out, it isn't yet the end.'
So with that in mind - http://jottify.com/works/worth-it-am-i/ - I will resubmit.
And do more of this (the holding of hands, not the trudging through mud)
walks stressed
talks stressed
he/she probably needs ... a little longer on holiday ... another glass of wine ... a hug ... Littlest to say 'I love you' ... a warm Four-legged-friend to curl up at his/her feet ... a literary agent to write something encouraging ... a law against rejection letters/rudeness/people who fail to pick up their dog's poo ... a good night's sleep ... to wake up a stone lighter and without the appetite of a marathon runner ... a candle-lit bath, with a good book and another glass of wine ... a long walk on a sunny day without any muddy puddles and the consequent three tons of mud clinging to the bottom of his/her wellies ... French onion soup and crusty bread ... tiramisu ... a glass of drambuie ... the view and air at the top of a Scottish mountain ... his/her tax return to be magically completed and spirited away to a land of benevolent tax men ...
I could go on. And on. And on.
Why stressed? Why me? Why now? Two days ago, a good friend, in whose company we had just enjoyed dinner, commented that I "looked stressed" - I think he had a point: I was perched on the edge of my chair, weight forward, head in hands, tummy complaining about the topping-up of Christmas over-indulgences I had just force fed it, struggling to remain awake and anticipating a drive home and a week of getting back to work and preparing for a party. The party will be lovely - fantastic friends coming, a wonderful celebration of family - but lots to do in preparation. Work won't be lovely - it never is ... except that today someone bothered to say thank you for a job I had done. It is staggering how seldom that happens. This is the season of resolutions - maybe, we should all strive to say thank you more often. It does make a difference.
Other resolutions - my own: procrastinate less (perhaps! I suspect I quite enjoy procrastinating - in much the same way as I enjoy food and thereby fail to lose weight, I enjoy procrastinating because it puts off all the difficult decisions 'til tomorrow and allows time for thinking and writing poems and suchlike). And on the subject of writing, I resolve to post a blog, here, once a week.
And to be positive - 'It will all work out in the end. And if it isn't worked out, it isn't yet the end.'
So with that in mind - http://jottify.com/works/worth-it-am-i/ - I will resubmit.
And do more of this (the holding of hands, not the trudging through mud)
And of this
I will chase more sunsets
and commune with trees
And smile ... cheers! It's wine time.
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