It’s been one of those weeks.
The kind of week that ended with me yelling at a mass of arrogant bicyclists blocking the parking lot to the doughnut shop this morning.
(If I ever write a movie script, it will be for a film that has a giant doughnut running over a bunch of unyielding, lane blocking cyclists. Their pointy helmets will do them no good.)
After returning home in a sugar coma, my husband alerted me that I had a package.
“What brass creature did you buy now?” he teased as he handed me the brown box.
Yes! I had forgotten all about this one! My miserable week had zapped me of my normally obsessive app tracking practices. And here it was–a surprise for me! My newest adoption into my brass family…
Wait a minute… my armadillo…with its…unexpectedly crazy right front foot.
Its unnoticed-in-the-etsy-photos gnarly extended claw.
Its misshapen appendage that challenged my ocd desire to have all my brass figurines sit up normally on their own and not at really weird angles.
Oh, no. What a week. My poor armadillo. I hid it behind some books and distracted myself with Pinterest and cats.
Until tonight. I have come back to this new, little friend, positioning him on the shelf until I found his equilibrium and accepting that his balance could only be achieved by putting his imperfect foot right out there.
So be it.
Let it be.
Welcome home, little guy. Shine on.