It's Just a Burnt Piece of Toast.

Apparently, some people think I can write. Well, write something interesting anyway. And as my days are mainly spent quietly at home recuperating, I may as well give it a go. So if you like my sense of humour, the fact that no doubt I'll offend someone along the way, then feel free to pop in occasionally. I can't guarantee it will be Pulitzer Prize winner stuff. I can't even guarantee it will always make sense or be completely grammatically correct. (Let's blame the chemo and meds) So here's the disclaimer, if you are a member of the human race, and you find something I write offends you, please feel free to move along. It's all just an opinion folks... nothing to see here ;)

Saw this on facebook on the Minion Quotes page. Thought it appropriate

The title of this blog page is "It's just a burnt piece of toast" This is a little phrase Rick and I now use to remind ourselves that in the big scheme of things, some things really don't deserve the importance we place on them. In the early days of my diagnosis, this one day I was having a particularly bad morning. My mood wasn't great, things weren't going to plan and then horror of horrors I burnt my toast. Now as anyone close to me knows, I HATE burnt toast. In fact I hate toast that is black, crispy or cold. In fact don't even get me started on cold toast!! It's as pointless as the reseal option on a block of chocolate! MY toast has to have that nice golden colour, melts butter and soft in the centre. That, people, is the stuff of sunshine, rainbows and lollipops right there. Rick likens it to warm bread. Pffft he sticks his toast in the freezer and his beer in the microwave (another story for another day) So when it comes to my breakfast I may have been known to lose my shit if the toast was not right. (Let's blame menopausal tendencies... that seems to cover a multitude of sins). 

So there I was, knife in hand and staring at this ugly black charred piece of bread. Never a good combination and I could feel Rick looking for an escape route. But all of a sudden this little voice in my head popped in and said "Donna, it's just a burnt piece of toast". (Yes I have voices in my head, NO I don't need further medication, and yes, we have the most interesting conversations. But this was probably my Nan, she would always turn up when I needed a good kick up the bum)

This has now become our mantra. When we start to focus on the trivial crap that shouldn't take up brain space, or that I'm over reacting to (pause for dramatic effect.... GOSH??? I'm dramatic??? Wow, didn't see that one coming)  I just remind myself that "It's just a piece of burnt toast" and the world as we know it, won't come to an end. 

Well there you go. That was my first post. Hopefully one of many wise and wondrous insights from the comfort of my daggy old couch. I'm off to find something interesting to do that requires little effort and won't strain the underarm deodorant. I can hear the tractor. I wonder if Rick needs my advice on that new veggie garden. I'm sure he'll appreciate my input ;)

Donna xxx