A Double Dip Day

Have you ever had a day when little, niggling things piled up higher and higher until they seemed insurmountable? Nothing major but just minor irritations, when everything’s wrong and nothing is right. Or, that’s the way it seems.

I knew that if I sat down to write some more on the perilous times of Miss Tootsie, it would be good therapy. Losing myself in a make-believe world is a way to briefly escape the irritations of the real one. But, I stubbornly didn’t want to write! Nor did I want to read what someone else had written.

Picking up paintbrush and watercolors is fun. Creating a picture on a piece of previously blank paper is rewarding. But, I couldn’t make myself sit down to create anything.

Housework is always there, waiting, but would it be rewarding enough to lift me out of this gray funk? Maybe, but to get right down to it, I didn’t want to expend the energy.

So, I drove to my favorite ice cream store, quieting that niggling little voice that kept whispering about calories and cholesterol. Maybe two or three times a year, I treat myself to a single dip strawberry cone. But today? “One dip or two?” the friendly attendant asked.

I threw caution to the wind. “Two,” I said.

That strawberry ice cream was messy and cold and threatened to tilt right out of the crunchy cone, but it was delicious. As I drove home, the sun shone, the birds sang, and all irritations were forgotten. It had definitely been a double-dip kind of day.