Sometimes, hard times get harder.
And that sucks.
Like when isolation restrictions lessen, but you still have to remain isolated.
A few choice expletives are more than necessary, but this is a gratitude blog, so we’ll all use our imaginations for that.
But when you can’t be in the company of loved ones, and you know you are missing out, that the rest of the world is catching up…
I had to do the only thing I could today.
Take a walk.
Clear the head. Breathe in the co2. Stretch the limbs, feel the sunshine on my face, and then run after Hubbie and baby girl as they suddenly got further and further away from me down the street…
And I felt good. I was pushing past my natural limit, I was making those legs ache, I was gearing myself to get the heart pumping more, the lungs taking in more air.
I was feeling lighter.
And then as I passed a large gum tree, with dozens of chattering birds ahead… the unthinkable happened.
Well, not so unthinkable. Definitely thinkable after today.
I felt wetness on my hands. I stopped. Looked at the drops.
Turned down to observe my top…
And realised, I had been marked.
Bloody $!*% birds.
How eternally optimistic is our culture, when it tells us that something good, can come out of something bad…
Like that good luck comes from something as crap (pun intended) as when a bird unloads its bowels on you?
How hopeful is that?
Hubbie told me how he got bird shit on him as a kid in primary school. All his friends told him he would get good luck that day…
He went home and he waited… and waited… and waited.
And nothing came.
What a load of SHIT.
I like him, am still waiting….
But at least I got my walk. And at the end of the day, this sunset.
Now that, gives me hope.