I woke up this morning and I thought I knew what this day was all about.
Our daughter hasn’t been sleeping well. I think it’s a combination of things: PMS, stress over college (which LOOMS over all of us lately), and a general heredity tendency towards insomnia, for which I am deeply chagrined. It’s been getting worse and worse over the recent days, and last night she was up for the entire night, which, incidentally, kept us up for most of the night, too. She didn’t mean it, but the dogs were bumping around, and there was some barking, and then there was the 3am shower, too. It was chaos.
So, yeah. I woke up at 7 and it was a bit of a non- starter. I had a headache, and my body ached, and I made what I know was a wise choice and decided to sleep in. I hate sleeping in, by the way. When did that start happening? I love a no- alarm morning when I can just let my body decide when to wake up- that’s lovely- but I hate wasting a morning away. Sleeping past 9 seems like I’ve lost time.
By the time I hauled myself out of bed, I was in a bad mood. A good portion of the day wasted already, I felt poorly, and agh, so much to do, damnit. We have the CY Open House this weekend, and I’d already lost the morning. I got myself together and just grumped my way around, convinced I was forgetting something of absolute KEY IMPORTANCE. Sam and Kiddo were already out of the house, off being industrious and useful. I dragged myself into my car and headed into the studio, already missing that it was a gorgeous, perfectly grey day, 75 degrees, rainy and wonderful outside. Missing it, missing it, missing it, too caught up in my own BS. Agh.
It’s like that some times, right? Just- GRUMPING. That’s what we call it, when you can’t get out of your funk, not really mad, just… tired and full of the blahs and plain grumpy, totally not capable of really enjoying things for a while.
But then I got to the studio, and let me tell you, the studio really is where everything magical happens. Lisa had texted me last night to ask if she could bring some three- week old kittens she’d been given that needed bottle- feeding every few hours in to the studio, and I’d said that as long as she had an open- topped box they could stay in (so that they weren’t getting into the yarn) that it wouldn’t be a problem. So- oh, wow. There really is nothing quite like a box of kittens, you guys.
Everyone in the studio was just entranced. It doesn’t matter what you have going on: tiny kittens make everything better. Thom’s wife Rachel even took her lunch break in our studio for KITTEN THERAPY.
It’s funny- I was so settled into that morning shlump, I wasn’t even noticing all the good things. It was a perfect day- exactly the sort of day I needed, cool and lovely. The radio was playing all my favorite music on the drive in, the traffic was great, and I always have these fantastic views of the city spread out before me on the way in- none of it was working for me. Nope, nothing: I was Grumpasaurus Rex.
Thank Whoever for boxes of kittens, seriously. I left the studio a whole new girl. I left the studio and put on some bhangra, ridiculously boogied my ass off all the way home, windows down.
I keep thinking about- and occasionally writing about- the little things, and how they’ll save me. Today was a pretty tangible and adorable reminder: it really, truly will be the smallest things that save me— even if it’s just because I’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed.