Fra negativt til positivt

I dag er mit humør ikke det bedste. Jeg er træt og når ikke nok (selvom jeg dog har nået noget, så langt fra, hvad jeg satte mig for). Sådan er det bare engang imellem, og det går over, og jeg må jo prøve, at nå det jeg kan. Det jeg ikke når, det når jeg nok i morgen. Men altså tiden løber som sand mellem fingrene på mig. Og det ved jeg godt, at jeg ikke er den eneste, der har det sådan. Det kan bare være lidt orkesløst indimellem.

Jeg har jo som det vides gang i flere søgninger efter flere Slægtshitorier og ting, og i den forbindelse, melder jeg mig til mange forskellige fora og sager, i håb om, at de kan være til hjælp. Det kræver igen en masser overskud og tid at få skrevet til dem, som jeg heller ikke har, men ….. Ayway, så så jeg på en af disse denne lille historie og den er da sød!

This is something to think about when negative people are doing their best to rain on your parade. So remember this story the next time someone who knows nothing, and cares less, tries to make your life miserable.

A woman was at her hairdresser’s getting her hair styled for a trip to Rome with her husband. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded: “Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s crowded and dirty. You’re crazy to go to Rome…So, how are you getting there?”

“We’re taking Continental,” was the reply. “We got a great rate!”

“Continental?” exclaimed the hairdresser. “That’s a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they’re always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?”

“We’ll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome’s Tiber River called Teste.”

“Don’t go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks it’s going to be something special and exclusive, but it’s really a dump.”

“We’re going to go to see the Vatican and maybe get to see the Pope.”

“That’s rich,” laughed the hairdresser. “You and a million other people trying to see him. He’ll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You’re going to need it.”

A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome.

“It was wonderful,” explained the woman, “not only were we on time in one of Continental’s brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot…

And the hotel was great! They’d just finished a $5 million remodeling job, and now it’s a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner’s suite at no extra charge!”

“Well,” muttered the hairdresser, “that’s all well and good, but I know you didn’t get to see the Pope.”

“Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder, and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors, and if I’d be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me.”

“Oh, really! What’d he say?”

He said: “Who fucked up your hair?”

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