Some needleworkers like to punch. I would love to do that right now.
Some needleworkers prefer stitching. It's what a victim of my ire would need.
Some needleworkers enjoy the finish. Oh how I would love to get there.
Some needleworkers prefer a sharp needle. Nothing can be sharper than my tongue.
Some needleworkers like a larger eye. I'd like to blacken a few.
Some needleworkers like their linen to be soft in hand. I'd rather have a rock in mine.
Some needleworkers have their threads wound. Tight enough to break?
Some needleworkers are very nice people, with kind words, forgiveness, and patience.
And one needleworker is not.
But she will get over it. Nothing is worth ruining a weekend, a day, an hour, when we don't know if it may be our last. And if it's not (whew), starting it with an attitude sets the tone for a wasted day. How many more do we have? Daily trials and tribulations are a part of life and nothing compared to the life and death and suffering of others. Get angry, get over it. Have an extra chocolate or two or three. Pull up your brand new big girl panties. Look up at the sky in the morning and start fresh. And ponder why panties are so damn expensive. I know why they're big.
Have a great Sunday folks.
I know I will. Pen to paper (fingers to keyboard) does indeed help.
***********************