This is the last year of my twenties. I need to make it epic.
Yesterday, Ariah was warned that she only had a few minutes to clean her room before “Gunny Bag” would come and eat her toys. Ariah collapsed on the floor in self-defeat, even though there were only a few toys to pick up. An already bloated Gunny Bag came on cue. As I operated the evil monster, I gave Ariah one last chance, saying, “Quick, it’s not too late to save your toys.” She said lackadaisically, “I’ll just buy them back.” Rather than exerting the tiny bit of effort it would take to pick up her toys, she chose to labor over weeks worth of chores, receiving a pitiful allowance, in order to accomplish the same. Isn’t she a bit like you and I?