Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Can I Get That Intravenously, Please?
Ever have one of those days where you feel beaten down and pressed in on all sides? When many of life's little stresses and annoyances have conspired against you? And you know that things could always be worse and yet, it's still difficult to be joyful?
Well, I've been having one of those months. I've all but given up on October resembling anything close to normal. In fact I am sitting here on the couch with a 32 oz Coke in one hand, a peanut butter Twix in the other and I've got an eyeball on the bag of chips and Lawson's dip that keeps calling me from the kitchen. My doctor (and incidentally, my mother) would call it an insulin rush waiting to happen.
I call it comfort food therapy.
The details of the past two weeks are too excruciatingly mundane and aggravating to recount. And that's saying a lot coming from me. I love telling a story.
So forgive the lack of posting.
I am far too busy uttering "The joy of the Lord is my strength. The joy of the Lord is my strength. The joy of the Lord is my strength."
In between sips of Coke and a mouthful of peanut butter Twix, of course.