What I am talking about is making promises that you are unable to keep.....I think I recently promised to have one of my cats write my blog for me on days when I was not up to doing so.
It has become disgustingly obvious to me that my children cannot be counted on to blog for me when I am ensconced in the Rubber Room. I made the rounds this morning, whispering pleadingly into each furry ear, and I might as well have been talking to the wall for all the good it did me. All I got for my efforts was a view of the usual furry long johns, private parts and waving tails departing with considerable haste up the garden path toward the south 40......... one set orange and white (Baskin), one tortoise shell (Winnie) and, the fuzziest ones, grey and white with a hint of beige (Gussie). And not a meow of excuse or apology from any of the ungrateful wretches. I know, I know, I have spoiled them rotten....it is my own fault.........what was it that guy Shakespeare said? Something like, " How sharper than a serpent's tooth is a thankless child." I can vouch for that.
Anyway, before I retreat into the shelter I thought it only fair to report that the cortisone shot my surgeon injected into my gimpy knee seems to be working........Huzzah ! Only trouble is that now I am aware that the other knee is complaining bitterly ............I wonder if I should have asked for BOGO or 2 for the price of one? I am still pondering my options but I feel I have bought some time to make the decision about whether to go for the knee replacement. Meanwhile, it is lovely to not be hurting so much.
As for the Rubber Room......I have my Father to thank for inspiring the idea. A man of enormous suppressed (and expressed) rage and frustration, he could often be found hitting his head against the nearest wall. When asked why he was doing this he would reply in a strangled voice, "Because it feels so good when I stop."
I always say that many of the most important things I have learned in this life I owe to my Father.......at a very young age I found that my best course of action was usually to do the opposite of what Pappy did or suggested I do. Consequently, the first time I had occasion to hit my head against the wall in rage and/or frustration I found out how much it really did hurt and decided immediately to develop a better way. I found many less painful alternatives........cushioning the blows with a pillow between head and wall or floor worked well for much of my young life. Then I discovered that symbolism had its uses and I could often vent my feelings by visualizing an act rather than actually performing it..........hence I could often be found in a sort of trance with a beatific smile on my face, eyes cast upward, while I envisioned (for instance) knocking Pappy to the ground with a vicious knee tackle and then simply beating HIS head repeatedly against the asphalt until I felt better.
As you can see, a healthy imagination can save you thousands in psychiatric fees later in life, not to mention wear and tear on the cranium, fists, feet and other body parts. Thus evolved the virtual Rubber Room where I go when I sense I have become a danger to the world in general or, more importantly, to myself. Believe it or not, it usually works. Or.....like they say about a dose of Chicken Soup for whatever ails you......."It couldn't hoit."
Now, you will have to excuse me while I retire to my padded cell and envision whirling a bunch of ungrateful, non-blogging cats around by their tails.
Remembering Doncaster Market Place
2 hours ago