Virtuous.
It's a stuffy, prim little word, isn't it? Like a proper old lady sitting in a brocade chair with her ankles crossed.
"Virtuous," she says, sipping her tea, nodding. "A lady must be virtuous."
THAT kind of virtuous I will never be, despite the efforts of proper old ladies everywhere. But over the past few years, I have learned the simple pleasure of bursts of virtuous.
I have bad habits, you see. I procrastinate, play solitaire, eat candy, sneak in reading or old TV when I know there are other things I should be doing, things that are important to me for my goals--or that make me feel accomplished. So when I actually do those things, I feel pleased. Proud of myself. Virtuous.
I feel virtuous when I:
not only get my writing goal in for the day, but surpass it.
actually do make lunches the night before.
exercise (hey, it's rare, but it does happen).
write a decent blog post.
cook an interesting, nutritious meal for my family (and they like it!).
clean the kitchen, completely, not in spots.
fold a load of laundry and get it put away in less than a day after starting it.
remember Child's increasingly complicated schedule and pack the right things
volunteer for something important to me.
You know that feeling, right? Kind of wow-I-am-a-successful-grown-up.
I guess it's an inner gold star.
What makes you feel virtuous?
