I awakened this morning feeling thankful without really understanding why that emotion arose so early. I squinted at my cell phone, since I’ve long since gotten too nearsighted for the clock. 4:30 a.m. I figured that I could be grateful in a half hour so I tried to sleep.
Two and a half hours later, I’m still swathed in the same pleasant buzz. It can’t be the day’s efforts yesterday, because I snapped at a rude attorney and instantly regretted matching his obnoxious behavior with my own. My faithful secretary outdid herself with preparations for our art event today: Maybe that did it.
Regardless, here I am, getting ready for a morning hearing that wouldn’t be happening if I had been able to find a way to convince the other side to settle. Perhaps if I hadn’t succumbed to his taunts, I might have. Perhaps a calmer disposition or the judge’s insight might get us there. Either way, by 4:30 this afternoon, twelve long hours after awakening with hope in my heart, I will be standing at the entry way to suite 100 greeting art-lovers and artists at the Quarterly First Friday.
That’s enough to make anyone smile.
It’s the third day of the thirty-ninth month of My [Long, Long, Long] Year Without Complaining. Life continues.