I only mention my state of mood because I'm thinking that you're thinking I'm an excellent example on how to live your life: one who is always happy, who loves unconditionally, is eager to please, a friend to everyone, never judges, complains or holds a grudge, and doesn't sweat the small stuff. I'm thinking you're also thinking I'm loving and affectionate, too. From what you've read about me in my blog, I think you think I'm someone to emulate, to strive to be more like. While you're desperately treading just to keep your head above the sludge of life, you see my happy, stress-free existence as an inspiration, a goal to attain. You do think that, don't you?
Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?
It's true. I'm a mood swinger. There! I said it! I'm not the perfect person you thought I was. But I've noticed lately that you're not "all that and a box of Cracker Jacks" yourself. We are in this together, honey. You and me. Just like Oprah, we need to claw our way out of the sewer, crawl with bleeding fingers up to the high road, forsake our old self-destructive ways, strive to reach our personal best, hire excellent publicists, and then set up a secret bank account in Switzerland. Are you with me on this?
Hello? Hello?
There you go. One vulnerable moment, a weakness revealed, and you're off to another blog, seeking inspiration and guidance elsewhere. But that's okay because I've found my own personal life coach. For ten years she's been right under my nose, leading by example. She is perfect in every way, and I'm going to follow her example on how to live life, except I'm not going to lick my butt. I can't reach it.
Maggie want a treat?
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