I suspect I may be being punished for something. What, I'm not quite sure, since I haven't done anything particularly bad lately. No worse than usual anyway. However, somewhere along the line I must have done something to make the fates very, very angry with me, as over the last week or so the universe has been layering problem over pressure over crisis to create a giant trifle-like arrangement of stress. The latest development - the whipped cream if you will - was the witnessing of a severely unpleasant fight between a car and a pedestrian. The person in question got off incredibly lightly considering how horrific the accident looked, which is a relief, and today I've been considering my reaction to the whole thing. I've always thought, despite being a bit of a flake, that if it came to a crisis like that I would be fairly capable. I was wrong. I fell to pieces, shrieking until my knees gave way, whereupon I sat on the pavement and sobbed. Not the most productive response to the situation. Thank goodness there were other people there who were a) more useful and b) more sober than I was.
And now, if you'll allow me to stretch a metaphor to absolute breaking point, please cross your fingers for me that this particular trifle recipe doesn't include sprinkles. My sanity won't take it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment