I had been doing okay with this whole Beans-living-in-another-city thing...getting up each morning all by myself, putting gas in the car before the empty light started flashing at double speed, and I even put a recycling bin at the end of the driveway. If you know about my garbage phobia, you know this is major improvement.
I had a bit of a rough day yesterday. Too much work, not enough sleep. Too many to-dos and not enough coffee. Normally I'd have my Beans to come home to, and he'd make me some soup and rub my feet, and within twenty minutes, all would be well with the world.
But then I came home to see that Weezy pooped on the floor, stepped in it, and decided this was the perfect opportunity to see if he was capable of climbing walls. Just...lovely.
I started to fall apart. Not because of the poop, necessarily...but because it was just one more thing to pile onto my already quite stressful day.
I called Beans.
First of all, he laughed hysterically at my Weezy story, and oddly enough that started to lift my spirits. And when I told him that I was stressed with all of the things I had to do and how I feel like I might not make it through June, he said this:
"You're gonna hit it out of the park. You always do." I whined a little bit more about my list of things and he told me to "just start."
So I did. That night I worked furiously until the wee hours of the morning, polished off a million tasks (with the help of a hefty glass of vino), and fell asleep thinking about what Beans had said...
"You're gonna hit it out of the park. You always do."
It was almost as good as a bowl of soup and a foot rub. Beans, what would I do without you?
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