Today is the kind of August day I quite like. It is clear and sunny and the sky is a soft blue and there’s a hint of coolness about. (Yes, it would have been a great day to take a walk. Shut up.) It’s the kind of morning that causes me to open every single window in my downstairs (all fourteen of them) and realize, in the midst of breathing in all that glorious cool air, that I have no upper body strength at all and by the time I get to window number 12, my muscles (or what used to be muscles) are screaming in protest.
Hi, I’m Tea & Sarcasm and I have a problem with run-on sentences.
In my younger days, a day like this would send me into a frenzy of mood swings:
- Elation! What a great day for getting a lot of things done!
- Misery. There’s an awful lot of weeds that need pulling out there.
- Joy! The humidity has broken and I can breathe in clear air!
- Trepidation. If I go outside to weed, the bees will surely kill me.
- Happiness! Looking out the window at a day like this makes my heart happy to be beating!
- Inspiration! There are so many things I can get done now that the humidity has broken!
- Realization. There are so many things I can get done now that I don’t have an excuse.
But now that I’m so much older and so much wiser and so much more sarcastic, I can look right out those open windows and just immerse myself in that wonderful feeling of something new in the air, something to be savored and enjoyed instead of battling with myself as to how I’m going to deal with it.
I’ve mentioned that I live next door to Martha-Stewart’s-twin, and watching her toil outside with weeding, mowing, whacking, transplanting, painting, scraping, hosing, sweeping, and generally being-a-better-human-than-me used to make me curl up in a defeated ball of whimper. Now I calmly sip my tea and think about how mature I’ve become that I can appreciate this day for what it is:
A chance to exercise my arms in the Olympic sport of window-opening.