Wintery weather arrived in Iowa this week and, along with the colder temperatures, brought something much more unpleasant. Mice. There is really no way for me to adequately describe how much I hate mice. Or rather, how much I hate mice that have come into my house. I have three cats, which should be a sufficient deterrent to any sane small furry creatures seeking shelter from the elements. These particular mice were apparently undeterred, or desperate; and so this weekend, which I’d envisioned spending cozied up with a new book, was instead spent sealing up cracks left by a recent kitchen remodel and cleaning out all the cupboards in which the mice had wreaked their havoc. I won’t detail the fate of the mice, but I will say that the cats have had a better weekend than I’ve had. And I’ve had a much better weekend than the mice.
Still, I was feeling very sorry for myself this morning as I sat down with a cup of tea and looked at the list of all the things I’d hoped to do this weekend. Feeling sorry for myself led straight into mentally reviewing everything that has come up unexpectedly over the last several weeks. Right in the midst of itemizing and begrudging each of these intrusions into my time, I noticed:
It seems rather silly that words on a tea bag could provoke a shift in my mood. But it was just the reminder I needed. So much of how I’m feeling is directly tied to my inner dialogue. And sometimes, just changing my inner dialogue is enough to change my perspective.
Plus, it snowed yesterday and I finally got to try out my macro lens with the snow.
Beauty, bounty, bliss.