Three days with a migraine meant that the normal round of daily chores slipped like an avalanche, landing with a giant pile of laundry and nothing in the fridge to feed the boy. So, feeling smug and self-satisfied, washing on the line, dinner planned and in the fridge awaiting my attempts to create a meal that everyone would eat, we went to the park. I went off with camera in hand to go and take photos of St Mary's Church in the evening sun and strolled nonchalently past the pavillion cafe, only to go slipping and sliding down on my bottom, holding my camera up in the air and landing heavily on my shoulder. I was now smeared with mud on my backside, legs, arm...but decided to carry on regardless, much to the amusement of some teenagers on the rugby pitch.
Fourth load of washing awaits me in the machine, ready to hang up.
But NEVER MIND. Pride comes before a fall and stood little chance of surviving after, so it's probably a good job. I have been a bit of a fascist today and probably deserved it. It's amazing what woes can be eased with some hot water and bubble bath.
Not nice to be laughed at, but I'm supposed to turn the other cheek (no comments about bottoms please) and forgive the people who laughed at me. The trouble is, it reminds me of all the other times I've felt humiliated, right back to bullying in childhood.
It made me wonder: could I do that - forgive them - if they not only laughed, but stripped me, whipped me, beat me, nailed me to a cross, played dice for my clothes, then jeered at me again as I hung dying while my mum and best friends watched in tears? No, I don't think so. Is it possible for this small humiliation? Worth a go, surely.
And Alycia is now in 7th place, so I've cheered up now. Get your votes in!!!