Hey Grouchy!

So back to my wacky list of National “Holidays.” Yesterday was Do a Grouch a Favor Day.

 

Darn. I missed it.

 

But, then…who in my life is a grouch? And what kind of a favor could I possibly have done for them anyway?

 

Fortunately, I couldn’t immediately come up with anyone. That’s a good thing, don’t you think?  Maybe everyone in my life is happy-go-lucky and all cheery-like all the time?

 

Naw, that’s pretty impossible, statistically speaking.

 

So then I wondered if nobody in my life is the grouch – maybe I am the grouch? And people aren’t brave enough to tell me?

 

Egads.

 

Okay, sure, I admit that I have my grouchy moments from time to time. Just ask Vince.

 

First thing in the morning, for instance. Vince bounds out of bed fully awake and ready to go. I, on the other hand, blearily open one eye and demand coffee.

 

So you can imagine how jaunty a pre-caffeinated Jane is stumbling around the neighborhood taking Maggie on her first walk.

 

Once I’ve woken up, though, I’d like to think I become nice again – and “grouchy” is not the adjective people would use to describe me.

 

For the most part, I have a pretty good sense of humor and I tend to be even keeled. I mean, who wants to hang out all the time with Oscar the Grouch? The poor guy lives in a trash can, after all.

 

But I have to admit that on occasion I revert to Ms. Grouchy-Pants even when it’s not first thing in the morning.  Like when it’s Vince’s turn to take Maggie out for a walk. He comes back in from the cold and he thinks it’s funny to take his frozen mitts and put them down my back to share the sub-zero outside temps.

 

Nice, huh? I screech and smack his hands away.

 

But, I dunno. Maybe that’s more shrieky than it is grouchy.

 

Overall, though, I’m okay with who I am. Yeah, I have my grouchy moments…but I think we all do. From time to time. And maybe that’s the favor we can do for our grouchy selves. Forgiveness for being grouchy.

 

As long as we don’t live there in Grouchyville. I think that’s a splendid plan. As long as we don’t run out of coffee…or have someone putting their freezing cold hands down our backs for “fun.”

 

If that happens, I’m moving in with Oscar.