I’m naturally inclined to be a bit down and moody–having General Anxiety Disorder and Seasonal Affective Depression will do that to a person–but the state of happiness is something I enjoy and the philosophy of joy is something I embrace; hence, I’m very rarely truly in a ‘dark’ place.
Little things make me smile: bird song, sunshine through the clouds, my favorite word (currently: wonderful). Unfortunately, it can often be little things that make me moody and angry and hateful, and it all whirlpools together as I further my discontent by being moody and angry and discontent about being so. What I am angry about today is that over the weekend, I have been gone from lovely #8, to visit my parents, and I have come back to dirty dishes in the sink and dirty dishes lined up in the dishwasher.
‘A clean plate’ is a common term, with many meanings that can be imbued by context; in this one, I really want my dear roommates to take responsibility for themselves post-gustatory activities. It’s only a little extra something effort to clean while you cook, or to rinse off your plate when you’re done with some cake, but to just leave the dishes there, in piles, as if they’ll sing and dance and then do a synchronized routine in sudsy water is a bit too much. The kitchen is cluttered, messy, and in the cupboards, nary a clean dish–crisis! crisis! crisis! just repeats over and over in my head. >.<
So, dear reader (if you’ve made it this far!), I have only one question to ask: WWMD?