My door is speaking to me. It’s practically haunting me. 

It’s begging me to fix it.

Back in January there was an “incident” with the door… I slammed it while very maturely storming into the house from the garage after being extreemely right in an argument. Hence the slam, intended as a visual exclaimation point to my final statement of rightness. The problem was, the deadbolt lock was open, so the slam didn’t have quite the effect I was hoping for. Instead, it broke the door, the lock, and the doorframe. (So, I have a temper. And I’m strong.)

Six months later, here I am still with a broken door.

At first, I had gained an odd appreciation for the broken door because it was a daily reminder that thou shalt communicate in a more effective way and not throw tantrums like a spoiled child. But as time moved along, as did the very wrong person during that incident, I got lazy and never fixed it.

So, the door begs me to fix it – and this week, I will.

My inspiration…

 From sweetyoungjourney.

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