I'm not sure what this says about karma, other than she remains an unrelenting bitch.
Not one week after posting that weak affirmation of the edges of happiness, lowlife caravan-dwellers take it upon themselves to break into our home and steal our only forms of transport. Even Jeff Beck couldn't find a silver lining on this cumulonimbus.
I guess I should have blogged about this when it happened, when it was still raw, but the result would have been akin to the Hulk attempting needlepoint. My furious fingers would have blundered across the keys, painting all manner of inquisitorial punishments for the scroteless fuckwits that took not just physical objects, but our freedom, our independence, our memories.
With time I feel I have developed the correct balance of impotent rage and acceptance. Shit happens, get a helmet, et cetera. Going backwards has been a skill I've honed through life, but I'm getting a little sick of watching and waiting for it to be 'our time', for life to relent and let us get on with the pleasure of living how we choose. So I keep looking forward while a tumult of apocalyptic rage furies on behind me.
Objectives for year end 2012? (Mayan calendars not withstanding)
- New job (oh sweet Jesus yes please, this above all else)
- Car
Yes, I've finally succumbed to the need for more wheels and a sense of utter detachment from the dangers of the road, found only in the warm, radio-filled, bucket-seated comfort of the motor car. Two lessons in and I'm wondering what all the fuss is about.
Stayed tuned for our next installment, when Mistress Karma dons the guise of a sweet old lady who appears from nowhere with the intent of wedging her adorable and harmless face as far as possible into the windscreen of my instructor's car...
