Did you ever get that feeling…
At what point does a perfectly normal person become a cynical pessimist? I don’t recall being such a glass-half-empty sort of girl growing up. Mind you, if I felt the tide was running out I’d just go for a top-up but anyway. I could swear I’d once followed the Monty Python philosophy - always look on the bright side of life.
Why, then, have I turned into such a bitter old tart, always expecting the worst? I see Patti and Selma on the Simpsons and think, there but for the grace of the Man of the House go I. What brought this on?
I had a good morning. The Man of the House was up before I was, where normally I have to crowbar him out of bed. He made a coffee while I prepared breakfast, where normally I have to do both. He was out the door in good time without any of his usual heel-dragging reluctance.
I spent the morning doing my absolute favourite thing - sleeping. I wanted to be all caught up so as not to fall asleep in my HODU recliner since I don’t like to sleep in public. With the fan on in the bedroom it was the perfect temperature. It wasn’t too cold to sleep, nor was it too warm to breathe. I awoke feeling well rested.
HODU, just by the way, is Flinders’ Hemotology and Oncology Day Unit. It’s where crohn’s disease patients are sent for their infliximab infusions because that’s where there’s nurses to keep an eye on us for hours on end. Anyway.
The outfit I wanted to wear was already clean and ironed. It went on easily with a minimum of wriggling, wrestling and cursing. I was out the door in good time.
The Beaver had plenty of petrol and, while the roads were busy, traffic was moving swiftly and smoothly. I made it to Flinders in a mere 20 minutes. I found a parking space only 3 away from the entry and pay station. In the day clinic I was seen promptly and the medication was awaiting my arrival. The gelco went in smoothly and without blood spurting all over me and the pillow. The infusion began without a hitch.
The other patients were chatty but not invasive. They made their own small-talk when I struggled. Not being a people person, small talk is a problem for me. When I had difficulty making my mid-way coffee due to the location of the gelco (the inside of my elbow) the husband of one of my chatty biddies assisted me. Despite said inconvenient location the flow of my precious elixir of not-being-sick didn’t stop once.
When the pay station refused to accept a woman’s mangled five dollar bill I took the opportunity to bribe karma into maintaining my good run. I sacrificed my own pristine version of the same bill, a difficult thing for me since I don’t like to be parted with pristine bills or shiny coins, accepting the mangled, manky one in its place. With that I was at the front of the queue and my ten dollar note was accepted. The change was given in the form of a single two dollar coin rather than the usual ten twenty cent coins. I left the parking structure without any difficulties.
There was no delays for me at the first interstction and at the second the light turned green moments before I reached it. Travelling along Goodwood Road I had a few moments where I thought that perhaps karma had missed my good deed. A right-turning car can really, for want of a less pun-tastic term, clog the arterials. Somehow, magically, all three times I approached a right-turner a gap appeared in the oncoming traffic allowing me to continue unhindered.
I got home in equally good time to find that I hadn’t forgotten to rinse any butter knives or teaspoons and there was no swarm of ants in my kitchen due to that neglect. The house was a little warm but not stiflingly so and achieved an ideal temperature within minutes of the air conditioner being turned on. In short, everything today went right for me.
Why, then, the sense of impending doom?
Tagged: Fears & Neuroses, Moral Dilemmas.