Used to it

 As I was leaning over the dryer and stretching up to open the cabinet above it to grab a trash bag to clean out Simba's litter box, I suddenly thought:  1.  I forget how short I am.  2.  I'm used to inconveniencing myself to grab said trash bag.  3.  Why haven't I moved trash bag box down to an easier accessible place for my short self?

Because I was used to it. 

This has been my routine every other day for years.  Maybe my spine is getting something out of it, though I doubt it.

Then I started thinking back about things I've become used to.  I'm more of a homebody, but that's due to Fibro and kick-starting my writing career into high.  I need to make myself get dressed and go out to eat breakfast by myself.  Thrift store shop.  Mix it up a bit.

But there are things in your life that you do NOT get used to.  That's because you're not meant to.

I was treated poorly at my previous job.  I would go in optimistic each day,  and by the time we opened the doors, I wanted to cry.  Not once did I get used to it.

Being in a relationship that you have no benefit from but wishing upon wish it will change?  No.  Exit stage left.  Been there twice.  It won't change.  You have to change the dynamic.

Now.  Professionally.  I'm an optimist, mostly. 😉😁

Query rejections are BRUTAL.  They pop in my email, and I file them and continue on.  I don't let myself become used to them because that's not where I live.  I live on the bestseller lists doing book tours and meeting readers and making a difference in lives.

Now that?  THAT I could get used to.

Always writing*