I need to sweep and my broom is broken.
It’s really nobody’s fault either. There was an aggressive rooster, a scared pomeranian and a girlfriend in her boyfriend’s shirt that could all be considered part of the reason that the broom ended up in two pieces.
Sometimes, my life feels that way. Kind of broken. But broken in a specific way.
The broom handle had a screwy end that you would screw into the actual broom. Unfortunately, that’s exactly where the broom broke. So now I have a broom handle with no screw. A broom with a screw top inside of it. Making broth pieces useless.
On the bright side – I wrote today.
It’s a keystone habit that I plan on continuing.
Sometimes the only way to a better tomorrow is through a today with a broken broom.