I don’t know what the hell any of this means. I’m just rambling.

Indian food is awesome.  Home ownership is satisfying.  Landscaping is exciting.  Being employed is a relief.  Having a job you actually like is something of a miracle.  All immediate family being alive and not terminally ill is lucky.  Not being lonely is a blessing.  Mental health is a gift from the deities.  No boy trouble = bliss.  Personal evolution is a wonder, mixed drinks an elixir vitae, meditation a panacea and self-esteem, while occasionally elusive, is priceless.

Some things are shitty, and you can’t help that.  But resilience, Quan Yin, Amelie, crab rangoon and india.arie when it hits the fan can, I am firmly convinced, get you through just about anything.  Almost.

I’d mention the invaluableness of good friends but that would cross the line firmly into Hallmark territory, and fuck Hallmark and their overpriced stores AND the Brentwood bitches who work there and wear matching holiday sweaters and talk through their teeth and are always “holding something behind the counter” for the Junior League and are closed in Sundays, what the hell?  Sundays are when showers are and a prime stupid-crap gift buying day, so who the hell closes on Sundays, other than liquor stores and Chick-fil-a and you know if you’re gonna live in the South, you’re just gonna have to accept that.  Fuck them right in the ear.

That said, life is good.  Headache-y, but good.