Today wasn’t a bad day. It was fairly pleasant, all in all.
I checked out a new church, talked with my parents in our weekly facetime chat, and made strides at putting my apartment in order. (Having actual furniture is weird, yo.) I spent some time reading and working on a cross-stitch for my entryway.
Some things improved a lot: my guest room looks pretty great, despite the overturned moving boxes masquerading as side tables and lack of pillows. The bed is made nicely, there’s art on the walls, a semi-cohesive decorating scheme, and there’s an overall “vibe” to the room that none of the other rooms in this place have yet.
On the other hand, my guest room actually looks better than my real bedroom, which is basically my bed and a bunch of clothes. (And also my duck lamp, but that’s beside the point.)
This afternoon, I had a bunch of ideas for blog posts, all that will take development. So I wrote out various rough drafts but never finished any of them.
As I’m writing this post instead, I can’t help but smell the remains of the charred stew that I attempted to cook for my lunch tomorrow. It’s incinerated; the meat is like charcoal.
I can look up and see the television antenna I bought in an attempt to watch NBC’s edited version of the Olympics opening ceremony on Friday. It’s hooked up, but won’t receive any channels.
There are some great lamps that my parents gifted me, old pottery lamps from the 80s that are pretty. I bought shades for them, and had to buy lamp harps twice–the first were one inch too short, the second one inch too tall.
Incremental progress can work backward, too.
This coming week, I’m making a resolution to stop complaining as much and to go on the offense at work.
It’s usually better to be positive about life. But sometimes, you gotta keep it real, fam. Not everything goes right, all of the time, even when we try.
Tomorrow is a new day.
(One where I won’t burn the stew.)