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.