Up from the ashes, after enduring a pattern of migraines for five of the last seven days, I'm hoping the pattern is once again broken. My best friend and I keep my sense of humor during these horror pains by referring to them as "brain baby kicking", borrowed from a favorite superhero. It's a great way through pain, laughter. I've used it since I was seven years old, and shredded face and four limbs in a bicycle accident that took two months for exterior recovery, a year for the severe concussion to fully heal, and may be the culprit for my early retirement predicament I find myself in, according to the neurology team of the Cleveland Clinic. With four brothers, you are guaranteed that you BETTER learn to laugh at yourself or you become MUD forever. So laughs ensued, some at my expense, most to my healing benefit, which lasts to this day.
How's this, Champion? Two, count 'em, two paragraphs. He's growing into a scholar. Anyway, as I reflect on the pressure that brought on the tension that helped bring on the mass of pain, I paid another months mortgage (yay), but left our bank account on zero. That's good, considering that times are harsh, and we just narrowly avoided a late fee...again. So, no complaints. Many people have it far worse, right? Right. Here's the thing. Pay attention now, it gets wiggy.
On Saturday, my wife suggests that we treat ourselves to our favorite Chinese restaurant take-home for supper. I compliment her great idea, because it is at this time of year, and after her payday, as this was, that we generally do this, having sacrificed for an awful long time. However, I am quick to ease her into the reality that we are broke, and have food in our kitchen...also, a fortunate situation that could be far worse, and may be soon, but not today. She seems to immediately and surprisingly comprehend that the bank account is near $0 and that our mortgage is good for another two weeks. We cook and have a great supper. Zoom ahead to Monday, today, Jan.17th...two days have passed. It's Martin Luther King Day, a bank holiday. My wife decides that half a tank of gas in her car will not get her to work, a mile away, and fills up her car with HER BANK CARD. Apparently this magic card takes money from some far away magic place that has no bearing on our zero bank account. She proudly presents the $36 receipt to me when she gets home (a marked improvement from the usual 'surprise' I normally would have to find out on my own,) and the party ensues!
I repeat to her that which I said about our account being zero on Saturday, to which Lucy replies "But Ricky, you didn't say I couldn't use my card!" At least that's how I remember it. So you see, that is why we laugh. We cannot wait until the pain is gone, until things are better, until we're understood...because that may never come. Then we will have missed out on a lot of great relief. It is. We don't go bobsledding enough.
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