Stop. Refocus. Go On With Life.
It was one of those days. You know the kind.
The new computer needed my work files uploaded, and I had to wait for the office to remotely do that for me before I could start in on the day's assignment.
Gmail crashed when I needed to email the office about skewed documents.
I got an urgent email from the office saying the new files needed reconfigured, with instructions to do so, only to have to ask how to do that anyway because my computer, obviously, isn't set up like it should be. (What the heck?!)
The foot pedal I use for work wasn't working correctly on the new computer, and then stopped working altogether. I emailed the office, again, for help but never did hear back from them.
Luke had meltdown because he found an envelope in the trash that he didn't remember getting the birthday card out of. (That's the way I was feeling, too. Meltdown City is where we live.)
The dogs are intent on eating everything they shouldn't today, like crunching a bulb right off the bottom string of lights on the tree.
The thing is, I'm not technologically adept. I can pretty much turn on the computer, and turn it off, but beyond that I fail miserably. And just when I think I've mastered something, it seems all the rules change. Or something. So it was just a not-fun kind of day for me. After a good cry, because that seems to help about once every six months or so, I decided that I'd can work for the day, even if I got nothing done. (It's not entirely my fault if I asked for help and didn't get it, right? I mean, I can't listen to dictation without that foot pedal.)
I decided that I'd focus on the happy. The mountains of laundry that need put away mean that we have clothes, and some to spare. The dishes piled high in the sink mean that we eat well. The dirty floors mean that we have an active life. And the fact that we have dog toys and kid toys scattered everywhere mean that we encourage play here. Life is never bad when I'm surrounded by the things that I love. My kids are some of the most awesome kids I've ever met. They make me happy in ways that I didn't ever see coming. And proud. Gosh, the proud I am of those kids.
Life is good. It's so incredibly good, even on really bad, awful, no-good days. And I love that I can see through the crap right down to the solid foundation that we have, even through the tears sometimes.