Rotten

My fucking Keurig bit the dust today. It worked first thing this morning (so I guess I should count that blessing), but after dropping J off and stopping by the store (where I bought creamer so I wouldn't have to use milk again), coming in the door to realize my house still somehow smells like the tuna salad I made (and cleaned up) yesterday, almost pissing my pants before I could get the groceries put away, and knocking the pile of clean dishes loudly into the sink, I was primed for that second cup.

But no. No more coffee for me right now unless I take my soggy ass back out to buy a cup (and I'm really trying to be more conscious of how much plastic I use). Goddamnit.

Which brings me to my reason for writing this morning.

Every time something fairly trivial but also fairly bad happens - things like finding a giant spider in the tub when I'm already running behind, stubbing my toe really badly, not quite making it to the stupid toilet in time - I feel like it's God or whoever punishing me for something.

"Remember that nasty thought you had about so-and-so? Best-fitting shirt now torn. Bam."

And it makes me pissed at God. Especially when I've been working so hard the past few days and weeks to be a better person - not so good things will happen to me, but to be a better freaking person! I don't deserve for my Keurig to break or for my house to stink. I've been working to CLEAN my house and get rid of the unnecessary stuff. And then unnecessary bad stuff happens.

Okay. I know these are first world problems. That aside, I also kind of know that God isn't punishing me.

But, I mean, sometimes I think he is. That's the God I met in the Bible and the one that stayed around in my heart - the mean, punishing father who'll send you to hell for writing things like "Godddamnit."

I don't know. I guess what I'm supposed to take from this is to keep trying to figure my shit out with God, and learn to respond less extremely and more healthily to life's little hiccups.

It just seems like it's been hiccup after hiccup after hiccup for a very long time. And there have been some big, um, hurl-fests I've had to deal with on my own. So when the hiccups happen, I lose my shit a bit.

Anyway, there it is.

And all the parentheses and dashes. Even my writing is cluttered.

I still need coffee. I'm still pissed.