Hauling Knickers

Don’t drop your knickers.
If you must drop your knickers, don’t rush to get married.
If you get married, don’t create a business together.
If you become entangled in a business venture, don’t engage in any construction projects.
If you must construct a building, don’t waste time remembering how it was before you dropped your knickers.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Every life has pitfalls, some are huge and some inconsequential. Yesterday, I had a conversation with a woman regarding the high rate of narcotics addiction here in the Hinterland. I told her about my brothers and she said, “Terrible things have happened to you.” Don’t you worry, I didn’t waste a nanosecond before correcting that misinterpretation of events- “None of those things happened to me, they happened to my brothers, I was just a bystander.”

It can always get worse. My husband used to say about Joe, “It doesn’t get any worse than that.” I used to retort (it was a retort, that’s who I am, I’m a retorter.) “It does get worse. You could be a quad and you could have cancer and you could be home alone and the house could catch fire. Now that would be worse!”

So here I am faced with a construction dilemma, could be costly and unpleasant or maybe not. I am not wailing and wringing my hands, looking skyward asking the celestial Big Daddy, “Why do these things happen to me? What have I done to deserve this?” Bumfudgit horse pucky! There ain’t no celestial Big Daddy looking after me because if there were that would imply that I am not responsibly SELF-directed.

Whining and worrying doesn’t change things. Action changes things. Sometimes you just have to haul yourself up by the knickers and sally forth to face the world.


About elroyjones

Equal Elroy, searching for the best answer.
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7 Responses to Hauling Knickers

  1. I wonder who the celestial big daddy is looking after. I imagine you retorted to the cbd once too often.

  2. I am keeping my knickers on…

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