morning soundtrack

today's complaints:
1. no counterspace to make my juices this morning 
2. could have had the entire day off, but i picked up job number two, remember?  eleven o'clock to two o'clock.  that's three hours too many.  so to my dearest father, you are right the majority of the time. 
3. i have too many clothes.  too much jewelry.  too many shoes.   
4. i prefer thunderstorms today.

to do list:
1. finish this cup of coffee 
2. maurices
3. need gas and veggies 
4. load up car/unload car (:  no more lime green curtains
5. picnic/bike ride = rain checked
6. song writing
7. yoga
8. sleep well, me. 
  
so this morning i needed an attitude adjustment.  having a list of complaints, being salty with a temporary roommate, you should agree.  morning conversations are not my thing to begin with, and neither is both sides of a kitchen sink full of not-my-dishes. my personality is lacking in the morning enough as it is, so joking about no counterspace to make my juice in a way that says "but really, i'm serious" is not possible.  that really meddled with my morning routine.  understand, morning is my favorite time of the day and demands my full attention.  it's a soundtrack of goodness just being apart of its earliness because its only requirement is my quietness, then will it kindly nudge me into new hour boxes and time frames.  obviously this morning was different.  rather than kindly being nudged, i swear i was shoved into my day by this gust of my own exhaustion.  if this morning had a face, i would have given it a look that said, "we're not friends today".   

besides messes and OCD, i was thinking about what seemed odd and mismatched.  today i was supposed to dress my best, wear the cutest thing i had in my closet, because someone important is coming to maurices to check our progresses and our team.  i decided me and my wardrobe are at odds.  we're mismatched.  i love to dress up, everyone and their mom knows this.  but today i looked at my clothes and became repulsed.  maybe my style has changed.  i wear my hair up all the time now.  rarely wear anything extravagant.  what is the point?  there isn't one, which leads me to this:  my dad was right.  all those times i showed up to the house dressed up and accessorized, he asked me what i was doing to myself.  we had our fair share of arguments, my trying to prove he didn't know his daughter, him trying to prove i didn't know myself.  the things we do to be beautiful, we end up losing beautiful.  love your dads, and know that mine is better than yours. 

to conclude.  can i please quit maurices? one, three hours is too many today; two, we are not new york city, so let's stop pretending we are; three, i'd rather be in sweats today, not silk.  good day to you, reader.  the weatherman says thunderstorms.