That makes me introspective. Since I tend to live in my head too much anyway, this is not necessarily good news. Today, as I was writing in my journal, next to the fireplace, I got to thinking about attitudes. How they’re behind even the smallest action.
For instance, I need a haircut (my hair is in immediate danger of being declared a National Forest), and I have an appointment to have it cut and colored this afternoon. It’s rainy out. I don’t like leaving the dogs, since the lake house is still new to them. I’m a little under the weather, literally and in the Freudian sense. I’m dreading that drive into town! I’d rather stay home, write in my Uncle Harry chair, play with the dogs, and a thousand other cozy, soup-bubbling-on-the-stove kinds of things. Does it do me any good at all to dread the appointment? Not a bit.
Attitudes are essentially choices, at the beginning, and their ramifications are far reaching, though often very subtle, leading to either a positive experience or a negative one, or that vast mediocre space in between. So I’m choosing another attitude. I’m going to focus on how much better I’ll feel, not needing a whip and a chair to control a bad case of helmet-head. I’ll be grateful for Lisa, my hairdresser, who wades in with her scissors every six weeks or so. And won’t it be nice to come home again, and be joyfully greeted by my beloved puppers?
OK, I’m good with the haircut.
Talk to you tomorrow.
