Fun fact about me, I won’t lie. Sometimes it gets me in trouble, especially since I work in customer service, but I don’t lie. The fact is, this past week has absolutely sucked. It seemed as though every day was competing over which day was going to win the prize for “worst of the week.” Also, while I’m being truthful, I’ll admit that my attitude has sucked just as bad if not worse than every day. You see, I’m still working on my journey. I am not an optimistic person when something does not go my way, my first response is to get angry and blame someone or something else. BUT, I am working on it. I was just thinking this morning about whether or not last week would have sucked quite as bad had I not gotten pissed off over every little thing and have it dwell in my mind. That is when I saw the irony of tomorrow. Tomorrow is not just any day, it is a very important day for the whiners like myself. It just so happens, that tomorrow of all days, February 11, is “National Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk Day.”
Last week was full of inconveniences that tested my patience. For instance, my fiancé and I were short on cash and were looking for small ways to save money. Rather than going out and buying bread for our sandwiches, I decided to save the gas and the change and make a homemade loaf at home. I spent HOURS on this bread. I mixed, kneaded, left it to rise, kneaded again, and then baked this damn bread. When it was finished, I took pictures and glorified it as if I had just reconstructed the Roman Empire. I had to leave to work almost immediately after, so I cut half a slice and placed it on top of the fridge to cool. As I was walking out the door, I looked at my fiancé and said, “DO NOT LET THE CATS GET TO THE BREAD!” And off to work I went.
By 10:30 pm, I was drooling at work. I had 30minutes to go and then I could race home with warm bread and snack. That’s when I got a text from my fiancé which read,
“Please don’t be mad…”
Oh, I was mad. The cats had climbed on top of the fridge, knocked the bread to the floor, and the dog had run over and ate it. Mad is not even the proper word for how I felt. LIVID is how I’d describe it.
I stayed angry about this incident for days. I allowed this to spark legitimate arguments between me and the one person who loves me more than anyone. I even went so far as to compare the bread to myself and told him that he just let it fall and get destroyed… (I know. I am pathetic and have since apologized.)
At the end of the day, I should have realized that what’s done is done. I cannot resurrect our lost bread. I should not have “cried over spilled milk” if you will. Instead, I didn’t just cry, but I mourned the dough I had kneaded and baked. This pitiful response to a bad situation created so much unnecessary pain that I am genuinely embarrassed to admit to it. But, I won’t lie.
So, tomorrow morning if you wake up late and start to rush out the door: your coffee may be weak, your keys might be hiding in an unfamiliar location, or you may just be worn out from a late-night project, remember,
“Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk.”
Savannah's Journey 