Lightswitch irritability and a case of the hiccups.

Make that two cases of the hiccups – in one day.  It’s so strange to not have control over your diaphragm.

Today is one of those days where I really should make a list of ten good things that happened in my day.  But, just for once, I think I’m going to rant and see how I feel afterwards. This is an experiment.

Things that ground my gears a lot this week:

  1. Chewing.  This is an every day annoyance, but today I’m actually going to complain about it.  I despise the sound of chewing.  I know that every one who eats solid food has to chew it, but those noises… *shudder*…
  2. When, at a stoplight, people keep inching up on you.  Buddy, the light’s not going to turn any faster if you’re closer to me.  I particularly hate it when I inch away from them just to give Audrey’s poor read end a little space, and they creep up again.  Don’t you know that was me trying to get away from you?!?!?  People need to understand the concept of personal bubbles better.
  3. Getting food stuck in the place where my wisdom teeth used to be.  I’m not sure why there are still little caverns there, but it definitely complicates things.
  4. Not being able to remember if I’m forgetting to do something.
  5. When people ask vague, open-ended, yes-or-no questions and expect a long, detailed response.  That only happens in movies.  If you want details, you have to ask for them.
  6. When you put something in your mouth and expect it to taste a certain way – and it tastes like vinegary dish soap.  (I’m sure you’ve had that experience before)
  7. When ranting about something doesn’t make me feel any better.

Evaluation time:  I feel crabbier than when I sat on this yoga ball to blog.  So, the obvious conclusions is that complaining isn’t productive, and it doesn’t give me any more joy.  Focus on the negative makes me feel like the smallest thing flip the switch on my happy attitudes.  Within an instant, I can become uncharacteristically irritable.

So, here the corresponding blessings/lessons to learn from those gear grinders:

  1. I’m grateful to have teeth so that I can chew.  And I’m glad that other people have the same capabilities (even if I wish the process could be silent).
  2. In the future, I’m going to be patient at stoplights.  And I will stop yelling at other drivers.
  3. At least my sockets don’t hurt anymore.
  4. If it’s not in my planner, it must not be important.
  5. Ashley could work on asking more specific questions.  It means a lot more to people if I know (and remember) something about their life enough to ask about it.
  6. I’m blessed to have the option of eating something else if I don’t like the soup put in front of me.  I can eat salad.
  7. Now this experiment has made it clear that counting my blessings makes my day much better.
  8. additional blessing: my mom just brought me a cookie

At the risk of being cliché, I’m going to say that I need to count my blessings more often.  To quote Bing Crosby in White Christmas, “When I’m worried, and I can’t sleep, I count my blessings instead of sheep.” I can honestly say that counting sheep isn’t my usual response to worries – I typically just keep on worrying.  Recently I’ve realized that very rarely do I intentionally put things into practice that I hear.  I often assume that – because I’ve heard it – it will manifest itself in my life and change the way I live.

Maybe no one else has that problem.  But really, how silly was I to think that simply hearing something could change my life?  My ears don’t have any special life-changing power.  It’s the action that stems from hearing and changing that changes my life.  That’s so obvious.  Why haven’t I realized that before?

Glad you joined me today to realize something so obvious.  That’s just part of my growing process, I think.  I have to acknowledge obvious truths before I can comprehend the more complex ones.

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3 thoughts on “Lightswitch irritability and a case of the hiccups.

  1. Ashley, some years back, maybe 10 years ago, I had hiccups about a week. I finally went to the doctor. What did she have to say, a clinical explanation of the diaphragm (not an easy word to spell), and then to try the old wives tales. Sure enough, after several attempts, I got rid of them by filling my mouth with water, tilting my head back, hold my breath as long as I could, and wallah they went away.

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