Bah Humbug Preserve.

Wednesday, December 5: Doctor Berger says our partners are often the recipients of our harshest behavior. I agree with her, and not just because she charges $175 per 45-minute hour session. I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of my husband B‘s foul mood, whether I’m the cause or not. However, I know he’s had to deal with my crankiness. Hey, someone has to face my fury when my computer crashes, I drop my keys, or my pants are too tight around the waist. Clutching onto and gnawing on my grudge rawhide doesn’t lead to happiness, as I acknowledged grudgingly yesterday.¬†Instead of nicer-Nancy, it would lead to pickled-Nancy: alone in a jar, preserved in the acid of my own resentment and bitterness.

I made sure B began his day with surprises this morning — nice ones: a Secret Santa left a pack of his favorite tee shirts on the bed and a fresh slice of Monteleone’s crumb cake (his favorite) on the breakfast table. He smiled like he’d won the MegaMillion, and I learned a little bit more today. It doesn’t cost millions to make anyone, especially the most important people in my life, feel special.

I’m finding less good reasons to be a Scrooge when it comes to being nicer. Bah humbug?

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