Pinata

I’m not angry anymore. I’m a bit sad but there’s no point wallowing in it – so I figure it’s much better to laugh at life at least half as much as life laughs at me (yeah, ‘with’, sure…)

Welcome Autumn. I think I have a cold.

And I’ve been seeing the world from the strangest angles lately.

Firstly, Mip relays all sorts of information about her day. One of the boys in the class was apparently ‘Space Invading’. While my mind was reeling through the possible definitions maybe or
perhaps
Mip was talking about something else entirely

The other day, I was walking to our main strip. Up ahead, I noticed one of the local elderly women, leaning up against a telephone pole. She’d walk a little then hang on to a fence for a bit, then lean against the next pole. It had been a hot day. When I got to her, I asked if she was okay. She said, quite matter-of-factly ‘I’m fine’ and continued past me. It was then I realised she was chatting to the poles and posts.

One of my neighbours said to me last week, ‘You do all that walking but you don’t lose any weight do you?’ I laughed politely, even more when she said, ‘well, you do are a bit chunky!’ I took a second to compose myself and said, ‘It’s all muscle Milly!’ Now the stupid thing is, I know I’m not overweight (mind, I’m no bean pole – otherwise the post chatterer would have had more time for me) so why am I now pretending to laugh when something inside is telling me I’m graceless? And what's the cost of overthinking? I think I'll just eat sweets and become a living pinata.