Snakes and ladders

I shudder to think what my life would be like if I were of a slightly less sunny and optimistic temperament.

I’d still make an unconvincing Eyeore though I love him; he’s got life nailed and anything good happening to him is a bonus; Tigger being the Polyanna of Winnie the Pooh’s friends, rather irritating actually, like an overexcited puppy, so much bounce – only to be taken in small doses.

No sooner have I climbed my lovely ladder, enjoying the view from the top, a snake comes along and makes me glide down its long body. No, this post is not about pole dancers or anything remotely to do with Freud.

It’s about Sod’s law; yes, good old Murphy. A friend of mine (he only threw caution to the wind once, at the altar, - and we were married for a considerable time) lives his whole professional and successful life according to the maxime that whatever can go wrong will go wrong – and then some; so he plans ahead, double checking being his middle name.

Variant of the game - in my case – that, just now, the right thing has come along at an awkward time. It’s enough to make me want to take up smoking again, to calm my excited nerves. I wish I could just wave a magic wand and star as the perfect me in my perfect life. Damn it. And please don’t worry about me; the snake in this case is very good news indeed, except … well I better phone my sister to see what can be done about damage limitation to get this ship launched.

U