It's the little things

The lawnmower almost always starts on the first pull.

It’s the little things.

Our dog gives me a tiny hug with her little head before I leave for work, every single day.

It’s the little things.

We had baked chicken for dinner last night. I squeezed on a little Sriracha for a little extra kick.

It’s the little things.

My nephew can’t say hamburger. He says “hambagerb.”

It’s the little things.

The Sammy Hagar CD I ordered from Amazon was in my mailbox last weekend. (Yes, I still listen to CDs.)

It’s the little things.

Patch has been gone almost a year. But his paw prints still live in my mom’s cement patio.

It’s the little things.

I ordered small fries. They gave me large fries.

It’s the little things.

Our new reclining sofa is super comfortable. It’s down in the man cave, in front of the man-size, wall-mounted TV.

It’s the little things.

Wearing Buck Naked™ Underwear from Duluth Trading is like not wearing underwear at all.

It’s the little things. (Bring on the dick jokes.)

There’s a bunch of really pretty purple flowers growing by the garage. We didn’t plant them.

It’s the little things.

From work or home, I’m never more than a 10-minute drive to a Buffalo Wild Wings.

It’s the little things.

Our neighborhood is on the ice cream man’s route. The jingle is creepy, but the truck is cool.

It’s the little things.

The way the sun hits the living room wall just before it sets feels like the last baseball game before supper, 1983.

It’s the little things.

The sound of your blow dryer every morning reminds me that I’m not lonely anymore.

It’s the little things.

The way the little things make the big things not so big.

And all we have to do is pay attention.

JS