The Pressure I'm Under

I switched back to my Tweety Bird coffee mug.
I used to snort coffee out of the standard issue, earthen ware, predictable, craftsy looking cup. For years. Carol bought me Tweety Bird YEARS ago and I used it but got away from it.
Last week every time I put the glasses and cups away in the cupboard, the Tweety Bird mug was staring at me from the corner.
It is bright, bold and beautiful. A big mug with Tweety all over it on a purple background. Designed to not be ignored.
I love Tweety Bird. Always have. I have two tattoos and desire more. It has forever been in the back of my mind to add Tweety to the collection. Perhaps on my forehead. I'm sure this would be a plus at any job interview. Especially for the New Hampshire State Liquor Commission whose powered elite have shown themselves to be clear thinking and open minded.
Tweety Bird makes me laugh. He doesn't have to do anything at all. I don't need a story line. I only need to hear him talk. And I laugh. To this day.
If you hovered a Tweety Bird video over my coffin just prior to slinging the dirt, you would undoubtedly hear an unearthly laugh.
I don't even know if Tweety is till on TV. I'll have to investigate. I need him now.
Anyway I started using the mug. I have only one Tweety Bird mug. That means I have to wash it every goddamn day. The pressure is intense.
We have four hundred standard issue, earthen ware, craftsy looking mugs. I only have to wash them every 1.096 years.
But I have fallen back in love with Tweety and I'm making the daily commitment.
That also means I have to put away every day the mound of clean dishes, pots and pans sitting in the dish drainer on top of Tweety.
I have the mug in front of me right now, I looked at it and smiled. Tweety is all over it in all kinds of poses and facial expressions.
I can do this. I can suck it up and get it done.
For Tweety.
For my sanity.
For a smile, baby.