Somewhere in the scheme of life I started working to eliminate the word “my†out of “my†writing. It became a bit of a practice in mindfulness and attachment. It’s not easy, since I usually write about me and mine. Being aware of this, helps me to see how attached I am MY of stuff.
Which brings me to MY morning thoughts.
If you were to ask for a tool in this house — you would most definitely ask Ken for it.
However – I have a few tools that are mine. I use MY vice-grips, and MY dremmel to clean beads, not THE vice-grips or THE dremmel. I have MY small hammer because it fits so well in MY hand. Of course I also have loads of sewing stuff. MY cutting board, and MY rotary cutter. I also have MY scissors, that are never to be confused with the household shears.
I only mention this because this morning I had to go looking for MY tools. None of them were in their rightful place! Except for MY scissors, which I hide.
With only two of us in this house the blame lands squarely on Ken. He’s using MY stuff!
Sure enough, MY vice grips, MY dremmel, and MY hammer are in his office. He’s also using MY cutting board, and MY rotary cutter.
Did I mention I hide MY scissors? 🙂
In reality – I don’t really care about this stuff. What’s mine, is his and what’s his is mine too. (except the scissors) Today, I find these attachments interesting, and in a silly way, I enjoyed stomping around yelling MINE!
That’s fine. Just stay out of MY shop! 🙂
And keep your hands out of MY popcorn
!
Someday, I’m going to come across the border and:
1. Wait until 10:30 pm.
2. Pick the lock on your front door. Not that I’d need to, but it would add to the ambiance. Mission Impossible music would be playing in the background.
3. Hide your scissors. (unless you have a new hiding place)
4. Back up your hard drive. Because that’s the kind of bad ass ninja I am.
You don’t need to wait until 10:30 Jim.
Thought I’d play it safe. Don’t want to have to use the blow dart gun.
…or DOOOO I???