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My happy friend

 Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. I remember hearing this when I was growing up.. It was a mantra when days had a false start and the way out the door became the biggest challenge facing an already stressed morning. 

Its raining and I need to stop for gas on the way to work.  My allergies are killing me. Sleep was not on the agenda last night. I stepped in mud on the way out the door and even though I knew it was there I still hit the pothole and spilled coffee on the white blouse I actually ironed this morning.  Some days are just harder than others and you can feel the universe telling you to stop, go back home, don't even try.

Then I pull out of my driveway and see my happy friend who has been out in this needed rain all night with a faded grin on his burlap face. He is old and beat up. He lives in the garage all summer with the spiders just waiting for September when I will remember him and make a hurried stack of pumpkins and straw bales to lean on. 

I love him. Not really but I do like him. He reminds me change is good and waiting for better days is amazingly worth the wait.  And most importantly my troubles are not worth the time it takes to form a thought even if that thought is surrounded by a real desire to crawl back in bed.


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