I need some happy news to fill up my bucket after a few First-World blows over the past week.
It was an incredibly stressful few days (I TOLD you this was not about world peace) trying unsuccessfully around the clock to buy Pink concert tickets before some smashing friends with good hearts and even better internet connections and empty credit cards finally managed to bag some seats to the Beautiful Trauma concert.
Namaste, friends! I mean, Pink tickets were about as elusive to locate as an Uber at midnight when you just want to go home and binge eat and watch rubbish TV.
My other problems revolved around the fact The Bachelorette ended and we have to somehow survive without tuning in to see grown men go gaga over Sophie Monk each week.
The Gold Coast girl won me over early in the reality TV series with her honest answers, bogan accent, killer outfits, and razor sharp street smarts. Sophie is all that and a packet of chips, right?
Surely Stu will not turn out a love rat? Hopefully Jarrod finds true love, and a watering can to revive his dead pot plant. And we all pray Apollo just takes off his shirt and pats some ponies. Again!
So you can see why I need to refocus on all the good things going on and fill up my bucket with love and kindness. How good is this constant bucket filling talk?
I recently went on a retreat all about feelings and emotions and I am always reading the latest self-help book.
But you know, I have found the ultimate free therapist who knows her stuff. You know who? My six-year-old daughter.
Her divine little Grade 1 classmates sing a song about trying hard to be good bucket fillers each and every morning.
It goes like this: “I am a bucket filler. N-N-N-N not a bucket dipper. Every day I consider how to be a bucket filler. I can do something nice for someone at school. Like tell them if I think that their drawing is cool. And if I see that someone is sad, I can help them feel a little bit less sad.”
Bravo! It is genius. Why don’t our politicians work on this simple yet brilliant concept of bucket filling?
Why don’t we all have literal buckets at work where we write little notes of love and positivity to our colleagues when they do cool things such as fix the photocopier or clean out the fridge?
If we swapped hating each other on social media and in real life and judging and sending out poison energy and instead just worried about being good bucket fillers, the world would be a better place.
My husband found my secret shopping stash in the boot of my car this week and was a little cranky so I turned to him and said, “Don’t be a bucket dipper”.
I think at first he hoped it was some code for bedroom talk but when I explained what it actually means, he just continued to look frustrated.
Happy bucket filling this week, folks.