Glass Half Full

Lemons at the ready! That's if the Very Hungry Caterpillar or that mean looking Transformer doesn't get them first*

I try to be a glass half full kind of girl, I really do. But there are days when it's not as easy as it sounds to make lemonade out of lemons. 

"Hey ho sad little lady, let's make lemonade!" says the universe.

Seriously? I'm having a shitty day when I can't even be bothered to drag a toothbrush through my mouth and you want me to put the damn juicer together, squeeze a gazillion lemons, spend half an hour adding enough sugar to make sure it tastes palatable, then dismantle the juicer and wash it, getting tiny bits of lemon out of its 27 moving parts?

Well okay then. I'll do it!

Why?
Because if I do, at least I'm doing something to take my mind off my shitty day.
Because if I do, I might enjoy it.
Because if I do, I'll be rewarded with a sugary, lemony drink somewhat resembling lemonade for my efforts.
Because if I don't, I'll feel shittier.

Last week, I accidentally sprayed hairspray in my eye. After 30 years of forcing various hairstyles to stay glued in place (especially the Farrah Flick I sported in Year 11) you'd think I'd have perfected the art of closing my eyes while spraying. But in a not uncommon brainfart moment, I opened them at the wrong moment and copped an eyeful of Tresemme Extra Hold.

Your blogger at a 1984 Christmas party with attempted Farrah Flick. Oh dear.

The hairspray incident occurred after having a shower at the same time as John decided to do the dishes and being treated to alternating boiling hot and icy cold water on rotation (he likes to rinse every article before placing it in the rack - not complaining, BUT did a bit of Morning Fresh residue ever kill anyone?)

Later in the morning, I carefully placed Francesca's banana smoothie on the front seat of the car while I did her belt up, only to find it tipped over when I got in, thick creamy milk oozing into the crack between the seat bit and the back of the seat, and dripping into the space between the seat and the door. The first word that escaped my lips rhymed with 'duck' which was a very bad mummy moment because Francesca, the world famous copycat, was in the back. Fortunately she was glued to my iPhone (another awesome parenting example) and I just sat there feeling suddenly that it was all too much.

I'm sure you know what I mean when I say I felt paralysed by a sudden and utter sense of hopelessness. That moment where it all feels too hard. That the little things have accumulated into a big thing that just might be insurmountable. And the fact that they're such silly, inconsequential, first-world-problem things just makes it seem so much more pathetic. But for whatever reason, whether your serotonin has taken a dive or the silly thing is just ONE MORE THING that went wrong today, you can't help it.

Lemons.

Despite wanting to cry and wallow and shake my fist at the silly universe and its silly way of showing me not to sweat the small stuff, I forced my brain into gear. My lemonade instinct. I remembered I had the weekly grocery shop in the back including a triple pack of paper towel. I ripped open that paper towel packaging like a lion tears at its prey. I may have even growled. I used reams of the stuff to soak up the smoothie. I found a new home for the watermelon and used the plastic bag for all the soggy paper towels and used a baby wipe to remove the stickiness from the leather. Huzzah! I was a canny, resourceful survivor! I was a problem-solving Man from Mars! I was making lemonade, dammit!!!

So when I say I 'try' to be a glass half full person, I mean I really do try. And sometimes it's trying. Very 'ducking' trying. But if I don't try, then I'd be a glass half empty gal and somehow I just don't think that would feel as good.

* Note to self: Clean sorry looking fruit bowl. Remove alien robots. Populate with more actual fruit.