Have you ever noticed how nothing happens on it’s own? It’s like a conspiracy of occurrences. Whether good or bad, they run in packs and gang up on you.
I mean, sometimes I’d rather have the lovely things dolled out here and there rather than coming all at once so that you rarely get to enjoy one thing fully. When it’s a painful thing, of course, it’s worse because there is no time to recover strength before the next blow hits.
Why is it, for instance, that I will literally go months without a man taking any real notice, then when I become interested in one I have them crawling out from all sorts of strange places. Some of them are rather tempting and others are, well, anything but, yet there they all are ringing me in the middle of a nice dinner out on my own or texting me sexy things that would normally be quite delightful in different circumstances or from the man I’m wanting.
Or how about when you’re down you get tackled again, then piled up on? Like me recovering from ankle surgery and finding problems with three other places in my body during recovery, not to mention cramps and migraines pairing up on me. Lovely. How about I just get hit by a truck? Again, I mean.
Then there are those rather rare days where the wonderful moments all roll in on top of each other, everything being delicious and delightful. It’s such a fantastic day, but then it is done, and the next day grinds on and on.
I wish we could confront these events and tell them to quit being so cliquish; to make friends with events that they have nothing in common with now and then. But I guess they get what they want and they want tribal attacks. Bastards.