Two things this morning:

1. It's hard to sleep on a twin sized bed with an 11-pound cat at your feet and a purring kitten above your head. (Pooh is, at the moment, shut in Ethan's empty room because he pooped on the rug this morning and I think he peed on the curtains that are still piled on the dining room floor (we were going to toss them anyway so I'm not that worried about that.) Hopefully he will get the idea that the litterbox is a Good Thing. (I put the poop in the litterbox to help him along.)

2. It's getting a bit irritating to have to reset my microwave clock every morning when I wake up because the electricity has gone off some time during the night. But then I think about the people in Thailand and all the other tsunami-affected areas and think that it's silly to be irritated because of such a little thing.

It makes me realize how good I have it. I mean, here I sit, 30 years old, with a good job, a house, a newer car, a new computer, and just about everything I've ever wanted. I have the luxury to be able to write when I want (well, not lately, but still), have enough to eat, and wear warm clothes. I am truly blessed.

And yet, I know people who are having trouble making ends meet, whose last car just died, whose job doesn't pay a living wage, whose children are sick, and I think about every time I've thought I had it bad and know I've never had it that bad at all.

Back Before (to borrow a word from the Hunt), I did have to save my quarters for gas money. I couldn't afford things that I wanted to buy, but I had an internet connection and heat and four walls and a roof over my head. I bounced rent checks for lack of money, but the money was there when the check went through again. And I never went to bed hungry. I didn't have to go get another job and give up writing because of having to make ends meet.

Even with the spectre of my ex-idiot hanging over my head and whether or not he would be in a good mood, sober, or nasty when he got home from work is really only a little bleep on the screen of my life. That was only three years of my life, after all. Not to trivialize abuse, but it's not the rest of my life, it wasn't the beginning of my life, and I've been alive longer than we were married. If that makes sense.

Sometimes it seems like people take certain bad experiences of their lives and dwell on those experiences for the rest of their lives. Or good experiences, too, for that matter. I'm not saying everyone should forget these things, but learn from them and move on. (Now I sound like Sarah and Michael. This must be a Beth-Hill related post.)

I've always been a sort of pessimist, but I realized not long ago that I'm a secret optimist. It's in my genetic makeup to believe that things will work out in whatever way, whether it be for something I really want to happen or something someone else wants to happen. Life isn't fair, but the balance of the world has to be kept. And sometimes, it won't work out the way you want, but it will work out. After all, the house I got wasn't my Dream House, but it will do just fine.

I am wondering what balance was restored during the tsunami, however. Just looking at the photographs is horrifying. And I want to help out in what way I can, but after the charity misfire, I'm leary to make donations to any charity who will spread my new address around like wildfire. (Anyone know of anonymous donation charities?)

I know one thing that will be on my resolution list for the New Year: a monthly donation to Modest Needs.

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