I have noticed something about myself lately. And it isn't very flattering. (No, I'm not talking about my thighs). What I'm talking about is my penchant for holding grudges.
I didn't used to be this way. I used to be fairly easy-going. If someone pissed me off or offended me in some way, I would just laugh about it, immediately clear the air, and move on.
Somehow, paired with white hairs, wrinkles, and a less-than-stellar heart, I have developed the ability to hold grudges in an Olympic size manner. In fact, if they handed out gold medals for grudge-holding, I am sure I would be standing on the podium with a Janet Jackson song blaring on the loud-speakers behind me. My grudges are large and small, real and probably imagined, profound and absurd. Anything from professional back-stabbing to leaving dog shit on my yard is grounds for a Penelope Grudge.
My dog house is so packed, it's about to explode. Lots of folks are in the dog house, and I realized something today.
I need to let it all go. It's time to purge the dog house.
The insults, betrayals, broken promises, hurt feelings, ego-crushing incidents, patronizing comments, and petrified dog poops are being purged. Today.
In preparation for a new year in 2012, I am cleaning out the dog house.
My tolerance for bull shit was extremely low after my heart attack. If someone pissed me off, I immediately announced "She is dead to me." That elicited some chuckles from my husband. Until I was surrounded by so many "dead people," it was like the zombie apocalypse.
Time to re-establish tolerance. Time to regain that laid-back attitude. Time to approach 2012 with a clean slate.
Maybe if the dog house is purged, there will be room for a new dachshund puppy. Then it won't really matter how many dog poops are on the front lawn, will it?
It's hard to be good,
Penelope
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