Can you imagine. It's 2022 and some poor public health officials had to announce they were banning DANCING. I mean, what in the Footloose-bullshit small-town decision is that? But at the same time I don't go clubbing but when I did, let me tell you.
I might have died for not being able to dance.
Dramatic but true. And now I have to go watch Footloose again but honestly I am completely caught up in Hometown Cha Cha Cha now and so it's going to have to go to the back of my list.
(I'm for mandates if it keeps people out of the hospital. All for them.)
Also I called the shop and the parts are in and they are working on my Jeep now. Do I believe them? I want to. Hopefully my luck is now turning a tight circle. I hate not being in control. Maybe it'll be ready before the end of the week. I lament how lucky I am, as someone told me a story last week that they read about someone who worked in a forge and if you fall into the molten metal crucible they actually have a pole and will push you under, out of kindness/mercy since if you survive there will be little left.
That horrified me and it stuck with me and I felt selfish and bougie for complaining about one of my cars being in the shop too long.
Henry pointed out that I'm allowed to have problems, I'm allowed to vent or be stressed. Since I am mindful of others' hardships it's not vacuous tone-deaf complaining. He's smarter than I will ever be, that's for sure and that's all the gratitude I need for today.
At least I can dance. It's like a Wednesday without the hump as we are over it.