I have been crying over spilled milk, but it really wasn't the milk.
It was what had happened before I ever got to the refrigerator to get the gallon of milk out. Heck it probably happened before I ever got to the kitchen.
Fine. I was upset about something that occurred before I left the grocery store.
But I let it build up. Brush it aside. Let things build up in me some more.
Then I get the glass out.
Fill it to the top.
Just like the young guy up top, I'm reaching for my sweet treat.
There goes the milk, and there goes my patience and my tears.
But until today I wasn't able to acknowledge that I was more upset about what occurred at the store and kept blaming others for not helping me clean up the milk.
Here is the other thing I realized today.
I am purposefully knocking over a few glasses of milk.
In hopes that someone would come along with a squeegee and just mop me up and give me a squeeze.
Guess what?
The people I surround myself with are a lot smarter than that.
They might give me more cookies to sop up my milky mess.
Or they might suggest I start using smaller glasses.
Or they might just keep on keeping on knowing I will eventually stop crying over spilled milk because we all have messes and sometimes we need to clean them up ourselves.
I just needed the announcement that there was a clean up in aisle 4.
picture courtesy of Klockwork Kugler
