Am I angry at my job? Goodness no, after all I'm only on day two of 215. Am I angry that I didn't have the good fortune to marry Prince William like I always said I would back in 6th grade? Nope, he turned out to be less good looking than I thought he would-- and who wants all that family drama anyway? Am I angry that I can't do what I want anymore, at least for a while? Probably so... sounds right.
I hate to admit it, but really, if I had my way, I'd never work another day in my life if it meant getting up before 9:00am. But my job is to work with children and working with children means getting up really, really early and forcing a smile even when you're really, really angry that you had to get out of bed.
Now I realize that I'm blessed to have a job and able to work every day. I know plenty of people that are sick and/or afflicted that would give their eye teeth to just be able to get out of bed and do an honest days work. That being said, knowing how fortunate and lucky I am to be able bodied, I still get a little jealous when I think about all those wonderfully rested retired people that get to do basically whatever they feel like all day long.
The good news about my early morning anger-- it quickly erodes into acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that if I want a new car and the dream house, I've got to get my bony butt out of the cozy warmth that is my bed, and get in the shower and start my day.
So start my day I did, in anger, which melted into acceptance. Tomorrow I probably will do the same.
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