I've written before that I am not a fancy person. Those who know me well will attest to that. My home is not fancy; my clothes are not fancy; my car is not fancy.
And that's okay. My home, my clothes, my car and everything else about me are servicable. That seems a bland word, a boring word, but a good word all the same. I like to think that I, too, am servicable. That I can do what needs to be done when it needs to be done. Sometimes I falter and fail, then I start again.
Joy for today: being servicable.