You know, my parents should be given a medal. Other people in my life have to tolerate my moods, my latest kicks and my never-ending jabbering when I’m worried, excited or “all stoked up” about something. My parents endure it — regularly.
I’m all about the getting rid of stuff right now. I’ve renewed the fevor of my disgust with the consumptive, collective hoarding habits of our society in general and with my own tower of possessions, in particular. I mean, really, how much “stuff” does one person need?!?!
So when I get excited about a project, like my current one of eliminating all the clutter and trimming my possessions to a bare minimum, it would be my parents that have to listen to my incessant chatter about it.
I feel for them. My own daughter wears me out with her constant talking, but I can tell her to hush, or send her into the other room when I’m at wit’s end. My parents are nicer than me.
Someday I may learn how to quit talking with that voice in my head says, “For God’s sake, shut up!” In the meantime, I’m thankful for my parents.
Who knows, maybe I’ll learn to be more tolerant of Alex’s jabbering…once she’s in her 40’s. Perhaps, she will be a faster learner than her mother and will be capable of listening to that voice in her head when it says “stop talking,” — but I think her maternal genetics will be working against her. Poor thing.