Today should have been great. I went mountain biking this morning on a group ride, and I had forgotten how much fun speeding through the woods is. But I wasn't able to relax because my bike was making loud, embarrassing noises that seemed to be reverberating off the trees. I felt like a DUFUS ruining the tranquility and I was mad at myself for not getting it worked on. As I'm typing this I'm reminding myself that I must have had a good time because I did not turn around and go home when I could have several times , but it's like I don't believe I had fun anymore.
Why are there some days like this where I just completely loose perspective? On all accounts, it was a well above-average Saturday, but I'm snapping at my husband and had to drag myself through the motions of taking care of little blondie all afternoon, even though I had the morning off from the mommy gig. It's as if I have decided that I am going to be a complainer and I cannot pry myself from that perspective. Where's the Jesus living in me? I am really, really looking forward to getting in the presence of the Lord tomorrow at mass. Only 12 hours 'til I'm sitting in a pew. Yes.