I've already confessed that I gave up New Year's Resolutions at a tender age. Seems I was always 16 going on 35 anyway. My goal for this year is simple: to get it right.
Get what right? Everything. No, that's too much like self imposed stress. Something. Okay, that sounds like I have a plan. Anything. Okay, so my heart is in the right place I just don't know if the world will cooperate. My true goal is to merely do my best while neglecting my worry gene. Oh, and believing it's permissible to concentrate on just me. Occasionally.
I started today by doing a good deed for hubby by playing "take your kids to work day", meaning I brought the dogs to work because nothing is scheduled. Besides, our lovesick Romeo has been howling for over a week now, almost non-stop, because his beloved is in heat and the mean ol' people he lives with won't let him out....unattended. So instead of making hubby listen to what sounds like a grumpy old man huffing and puffing about not getting his way, I'm giving hubby's ears 8 hours of peace and quiet. And yes, there is much grumbling coming from beside my desk but when I play ball with him and his son, who is much less lovestruck, the world will be fine again. For all of us.
Now all I have to do is figure out what the human equivalent of playing ball is and I'm good to go.