I've been waking up to singing here lately, and the music has been absolutely gorgeous - just like the mornings. Spring has settled into central Kentucky. We lost most of our pretty time last year because of a late frost, but this year the buds turned bloom are looking fresh and colorful. So yeah, we're doing much better this year. The birds seem especially happy these days. They're tuned, perched and making beautiful music by the time I roll out of my own little nest. It's a good, good way to start a day.
I don't think I'm naive enough to believe that everyone is having my kind of morning. Of course, I don't want to mislead you either. I don't bounce out of bed with a cheerful glow every morning. As spiritual as I'd like to think I am, sometimes my earliest thoughts aren't always my best witness. I'm blessed though and I know it.
The other day I told a friend that I've been making myself wait til the very last possible moment to buy gas. It makes me angry to have to fill out a loan application every time I fill up. The longer the pump runs, the worse my credit-rating gets. It's too bad I let it get to me the way it does. On days when everything else is fine and dandy, I get that roller-coaster feeling in my belly when I know I'm gonna have to pony up and pay out. As the numbers turn to a blur I start running through my incidentals to figure out what can go. If I'm going to drive I'm going to have to give up something.
There's no good reason to feel sorry for myself. Three paragraphs ago I was thrilled with my morning serenade. Keeping me and my stuff in proper perspective reminds me that I'm doing well. Things are good for me - not perfect, but good. The birds don't stop singing when I start pumping.
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