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Slice 121 of 365

I like simplicity. The world should be black and white but it’s not. There is lots and lots of gray and tons of different shades of it to boot.

In my mind, simplicity equates to less or possibly even no stress. That brings into question what is stress? And guess what? That’s a gray area too because it’s so subjective.

Stress for the single mom in Newark with two jobs and homework is different from the Paramedic dealing with life and death daily. And that’s industrialized nation stress.

Is the stress of the single mom similar to the rice farmer in the Philippines struggling to feed his family? Or is there a cultural difference in the way it’s dealt with?

I feel stressed today because I have things to get ready for tomorrow. And honestly it isn’t all that much it won’t take all that long but I’m just in my head about it that there are 100 things to do and there really aren’t.

I started writing this on my phone in bed soon after waking up to take some of the pressure off of today. Sometimes I think about taking the stress of the daily writing away but I don’t want to give up. I feel like I’ve given up far too many things for a long time now. I don’t know if not giving up will serve any purpose except to hone my stubbornness which really doesn’t need any work, that trait is pretty well mastered.

Get dinner and breakfast ready today for tomorrow and dye eggs. That’s it. It’s not a lot. And writing it down and seeing it now I feel pretty silly for panicking over it. And of course writing, which I’m managing to get done early.

And ya know what? If it doesn’t get done the way I want it or at all it is definitely not a disaster. It’s a way different stress than not being able to pay the mortgage or having a broken down car. Those can be disasters.

Mike is coming home today for just barely over a day so maybe that adds to it. I want everything done so I can spend as much time with him as possible.

Maybe part of it is age. I might be more impatient these days but that mixes with caring less about a lot of things as well. And when I say caring less I mean many, many things have just become much less important. And I suppose another part of it is I expected, at this age, that my life would be much more stable and secure.

Sometimes it just feels like the whole world is burning down around me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t play the fiddle while it’s burning (as always, bonus points for the reference) but I could at least roast marshmallows and make smores.

I guess stress is just life. And life is just stress.

Besides, there’s always Bailey’s.

Until tomorrow…

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