The final nail was hammered into my marriage coffin a year ago.
We were visiting Melbourne and I got a call to say my beloved chickens had been murdered.
I didn’t realise I was hammering the nail as I sobbed in my husband’s arms, but he did. I’m pretty sure it’s the moment he realised he’d had enough of my dramas and wanted out. Less than a week later he sat me down for “the talk.”
I thought it was my Humpty Dumpty moment, where no-one could put me back together again. But, bless the universe, I was wrong. I could put myself back together again. And it felt gooood.
The title of the second post is ironic because today’s blog gave me writer’s block. I’d written the title – Nit Picking – but was stuck for words to follow. The nit picking referred to my rental agent, who is attempting to take $50 out of my bond for damage to the house’s festy carpet while I’ve countered with a belated demand for compensation for having no hot water for four days in the middle of winter.
I should just sigh and agree to their piddling claim, but I’m CRANKY about them going back three times to inspect the place and finding new things to add to their list of demands each visit. FFS.
The nits in the original blog were the scurrying-around-in-hair kind.
Both types are Very. Bloody. Annoying.
I was reminded of the “nit” coincidence because I sometimes check what I wrote a year previously for inspiration when the words won’t come. I look back at where I was and seeing how far I’ve come … Or I’ll be reminded it’s the anniversary of certain events can get the creative juices flowing again.
Reading about losing my chickens just made me very, very sad … which makes a change from being very, very cranky.
But I really prefer being very, very happy, which I was when DD took me for lunch yesterday.
Life’s a funny beast. You’ve just got to ride it.
Song of the day: Crowded House “Four seasons in one day”