Progress!

Now that I'm about to start a new job as a preschool teacher, my tolerance for frustration and sucky situations has improved.

A large portion of the roof up and blows away; I walk outside to investigate. Giggles erupt. That's all.

My little black kitten, Daytona, brings five dead rodents into the house throughout the day as proof of his supreme mastery as Hunter; I watch his sadistic game of postmortem acrobats for a time, then scoop up his kills with a prayer that I wish their deaths had not been in vain and deposit them respectfully in the outdoors trashcan. Even when I almost stepped on a very large mouse in the dark last night after letting him in, I did not curse or become irrate. I just snapped on the light and began laughing at the behemoth-sized varmint he'd drug in through the window (and removed it, of course).

Jezebel drags a half-dead snake in through the window and deposits it on the bedroom floor, where she commences her sadistic game of "Come On You Slithery Thing And Move Or I'll Poke You." It plays opossum, and the worst thing I have to deal with is choosing whether to intervene in its Fate and free it or kill it swiftly myself. I decide I don't like the role of Old Testament God and allow her to continue her game. She eventually tires of it, and another member of the household rescues and releases it instead.

Raja manages to sneak a stick and a half of butter off the counter while I'm cooking; I give him a verbal reprimand, grab what's left of the butter, rinse it off and put it away. (Don't tell.)

I realize I left my book by Annie Proulx by the softball park before a rainstorm; instead of lamenting its loss, I select a book from the shelf by Haitian novelist Edwidge Danticat Breath, Eyes, Memory to read.

Just examples to illustrate that I'm dealing better with curveballs now. And finding some glee in the unexpected.