What A Difference A Day Makes…

I’m old enough to remember the record that includes the lines:

“What a difference a day makes,
Twenty four little hours…”

However, I can’t remember the title, nor who sang it. No matter, it still indicates today’s theme.

In my last post, I was feeling absolutely brilliant. Oh my, how I enjoyed that feeling and that day. That’s the thing about bad times: if you have enough of them, or if they are bad enough, they help you to appreciate the good times. And that definitely applies to me, in lots of ways. So, I was thankful for my day of feeling great, and appreciated it as such: a good day. Not a week, or a month, but a single day. For that’s what it ended up being – one day. But that’s OK because it was wonderful, and it recharged my psychological batteries, and made me feel good, and eased the concern that certain people have about my wellbeing. It was a beautiful, bright and colourful day.

Yesterday and today have been less wonderful. I have felt a little tired. I have been able to do some hand stitching, be it only for about an hour at a time, interspersed with periods of elegant (?!? Perhaps not!) lounging around the house. However, it doesn’t matter that the good period lasted only one day. What matters is that I had a good day, in the first place. If I’ve had one, I can have more, can’t I?

And that’s what I am hanging on to!


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