Hmm. You know what? I forgot to tell you this – I am a walking disaster zone. It’s true. If there’s a toe to be stubbed, I’m there. A nail to be ripped off at the quick; that’s me. I am constantly having small crises. Usually they involve quite a lot of blood. Sometimes, stitches. Mostly, swearing. Loud swearing! And band aids. Lots of them.
For example; today I have been sitting at my pc all day. I literally didn’t move. But I managed to get a big cut across the top of my foot? Eh? How did that happen? A few days ago I was trundling down our stairs. I have been going up and down these same stairs for 13 years. Yes, it’s spiral staircase. Yes, it’s ancient [about 300 years old] but I have been up and down them at least 20 times a day...so how is it that yesterday I ripped a lump out of my heel on a nail that I have never seen before?? Eww. Lots of blood!
So. I am a walking chaos. If I am gardening [my passion] - I am quite often in danger of hacking off a member with the secateurs. If I am cleaning – the danger there is losing a nail [not just a nail – the entire nail – from the quick! Ugh!]. If I am cooking...well, this is a joke – I can either set myself on fire in the kitchen or grab something too hot from the cooker, thus singing some flesh...hmm, choices...
The point I am trying to make is this – no matter what we do, we will eventually arrive at a disaster. A choice we can’t choose. Large or small, a disaster, nonetheless.
It is how we deal with the disaster that is important. Oh yes we can shriek and wail. We can pretend it didn’t happen at all [ok.....]. We can berate the fates – volubly. OR. We can just deal with it.
I choose to do that. Just deal with it. Get hold of it, shake it and deal with it.