CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL ( Anh ngữ) Phần 2

CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL ( Anh ngữ)
Phần 2

Be happy

If you have a bad day at work, be thankful. Appreciate that you have a job.
Some people don't.

When you pay your bills, be thankful. You can pay them.

If you see a gray hair, be thankful. Think of the cancer patient in
chemotherapy who only wishes for any hair.

When you find yourself waiting in line or the recipient of poor service, be
thankful. Think about the people who have no food to eat at all.

When you realize how much work it is to take care of a house, be thankful
you have a house. Think about those who only wish they had a house to take
care of.

When you feel like complaining because you have to walk a long distance
from your car, be thankful. Think of what it would be like not to be able to
walk!

If you get irritated by other people's anger, apathy, ignorance, bitterness, or
insecurities, be thankful. Things could be worse. You could be one of them!

When you think everything in your world is terrible, and you want to give
up, think of the people who have been told they only have a certain amount
of time to live. They don't want to give up.

Good to Be Home

Years ago when my three boys were just wee ones, my old high-school
friend, Marge, invited me to lunch at her home in a nearby upscale
subdivision. She was a teacher, had never married and had recently
purchased a condominium.

The minute I walked into her home, I knew there was something different
about it, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. I put my finger on
the kitchen counter while admiring her tile, and realized what was so
different. The counter wasn't sticky. Upon closer inspection, I saw that there
wasn't any peanut butter oozing down the kitchen cabinets, no Kool-Aid
puddle on the floor or cookie crumbs on the place mats. No one had left the
half-gallon carton of milk out or put the mayonnaise back in the fridge
without the lid.
After lunch, we sauntered into Marge's living room to sip our coffee and
reminisce about the "good old days" and ponder "whatever happened to?" I
was immediately struck by the fact that her stereo turntable cover didn't have
fingerprints of assorted sizes all over it, and none of her records were
warped from being used as Frisbees
When Marge gave me directions to the bathroom, I made my way up a flight
of stairs which weren't covered with Hot Wheels tracks, slinky toys or yo-
yos. Being the only female in a house with four males, I always approached
bathrooms with caution. I carefully opened the door and there was no potty
seat to be removed from the toilet. And--wonder of wonders!--the seat was
down. I peeked behind the shower curtain, and there wasn't a turtle or frog to
be seen in the tub--just a pretty bottle of perfumed bath crystals where
usually I saw a soggy box of Soaky Fun Bubbles.
After a delightful afternoon of bringing each other up to date on our lives, I
bade Marge good-bye, each of us promising the other that we would do this

more often. I climbed into my clunky station wagon and headed home,
wondering what series of crises would be reported to me by the sitter upon
my arrival. It always seemed that when I treated myself to a day out, I was
penalized by having to deal with all sorts of mishaps, spillage, clutter and
fights that had occurred in my absence. The highway stretched before me,
and I slowed my speed trying to put off the inevitable. I felt vaguely sorry
for myself. I dawdled in the grocery store, not knowing what to get for
dinner.
No one was in the yard when I pulled in, and the dogs didn't come out
snapping at the grocery bag. It was suspiciously quiet inside the house, and I
called out, "Where is everybody?
"In the bathroom," came the reply.
"Great," I sighed. "What is it this time?"
When I went to the kitchen to deposit the groceries, it was noticeably free of
dirty dishes and food morsels.
"We cleaned our room and the kitchen and now we're giving the dogs a
bath," my eldest proudly proclaimed, as I approached the bathroom
wondering what was going on.
Our two black Labrador retrievers were totally immersed in Soaky Fun
Bubbles and, upon seeing me, leapt from the tub; two white clouds with
white tails, knocked me to the sudsy floor, each bestowing a slurpy
"welcome home" lick on my face. The three little boys and two big dogs
thought this was wonderful entertainment, and we all slipped and slid around
on the bathroom floor, bubbles everywhere, laughing hysterically.

I surveyed the ridiculous scene around me, and for some reason I couldn't
explain, I felt sorry for Marge.