There are some days when I feel so confident. I’ll wear an outfit that makes me feel entitled, as if I owned the street, like why are there even people (commoners) walking beside me? The audacity. So here I am, getting out of the house to walk into town, head held high, shoulders rolled back, massive sunglasses and not a smile in sight. I walk long strides, looking ahead with some pride and TRIPPED. Not once, not twice but THREE times.
Not only my outfit caught the look of people but I am also looking like a pretentious bitch. And now I can’t even walk? Humiliating. I bet the people who paved those roads were drunk because how can they be so uneven, honestly? Anyway, I went from being so confident to going back to where I belonged (with the commoners) so quickly—a humbling experience.
It is one of those things. Like having your bag or jeans getting caught in the door handle when you are already on the verge of a mental breakdown; it will send you over the edge. Or getting a spot just before a holiday. Or when life is going a bit too well and the universe feels the need to send you a couple of plagues as a reality check. It keeps you on your feet!
Thankfully it goes both ways and sometimes, plenty of good things will happen as a reminder that being an earthling is not too bad. Like someone bringing you pizza when you are deep into period cramps (this is a subliminal message).
Extra complaining bonus
Or so I thought when I ‘finished’ this article on a goold (good old, a happy accident) positive touch. HAHAHA! The title may as well be “On reality checks and why I am a pessimist”. As I mentioned, good things will happen to me but life has its little ways of reminding me it is only to punch me in the guts a little later.
Last week I came across some “free money” - be warned, we are now in girls’ math territory - when my 100£ train tickets got reimbursed, a friend wired me the money she owed me (since last year, wish I could add interest) and my boss offered me to reimburse the cost of my desk set up. Banco bingo I thought, things are looking good! Until the following day, the mailman graced me with my tax return. Turns out I owe HMRC (His Majesty Revenue and Customs) a butt load of money in tax. For the third year in a row. Someone (not me, it’s automatic) clearly does not know how to count.
Beware, nothing good is free and, like the good, bad things come in trees.