Nothing broken

What flavor frustrated are you? Are you the frazzled type of frustrated, all unkempt slop-haired, buttonholes fastening the wrong buttons? Or are you the emotional frustrated, when the customer service line won't let you talk to a real human bean, you just cry. You sob. You wail. I'm the angry frustrated. It's a most unbecoming situation when I am angrustrated. I know that my husband really loves me because he has seen the horns of my frustration rear and he doesn't try to sneak out the back door and run to Louisiana. Though he was measuring me the other day and he said something about how wasn't it cool that I was just small enough to fit in a XL Flat Rate box. I wonder if that had anything to do with the one he had addressed to Republic of Philippines?

The last couple of days, urrrrrgoooosh, I've felt so frustrated that Things Were Not Happening on My Time Table. I was hopping mad today and my sweet daughter asked me why I was frustrated and I told her it was because things were broken and she asked which things were broken and later she asked me if things were still broken OH, CHILD, AREN'T METAPHORS TRICKEHH and all I could think was that I was a massive idiot. Nothing was broken here: the roof over our heads, the cereal bowls in our cabinets, the hearts that thump the bass beat of this sweet cacophonous song we're writing together as the tightest band in town.

Nothing broken here.

*** Why are you cast down, Oh my soul? And why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall yet praise Him, the help of my countenance and my God. - Psalm 42:11

***

Nothing.

Nothing broken.

Nothing broken here.

*** Hey! Love your comment love below. But also! I'm trying to raise $310 for ASH (ten moneys for every year of life as I turn 31 flavors next month). Won't you buy some band-aids for Kenya?