At the time, it was a tortuous six weeks, but here it is two years later.
Funny how it’s become more than an apartment, but my home – albeit a messy one. I’m refinishing an old dresser and the last three dresser drawers are on the floor (with plastic drop cloth underneath) waiting for the coats of stain to dry. I have a pile of old clothes in a chair from that dresser and I need to decide what to keep and what to give away. I have a kitchen table full of papers along with a second laptop, and somewhere around here there’s a bottle of Sparkle. I’m slowly working on making this place presentable before Turkey Day next week.
There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not grateful for living here, but that has nothing to do with Thanksgiving.
It’s sort of natural we give thanks at Thanksgiving … and then forget about what we have the other 364 days of the year. And I’ve done it too, but when I find myself bitching about what I don’t have, I remind myself of what I do have:
Maybe those things don’t seem like much, but to someone else, someone who has less, it might seem like the world.
I don’t have a lot of material things, but I do have the things that matter to me. So yeah, I have a lot to be thankful – and grateful – for every day of the year, not just at Thanksgiving.