It didn’t take long for the turtle curse to evolve. I awoke with back pain on Wednesday, struggled through the day at work, trying to access trigger points by angling my back against wall edges (you know, those sharp angles where two walls join; there is probably a name for them, but in my brain they are wall edges, the sharp end of the wall that hurts, except for when you want them to hurt and then they do nothing) but naught helped. I drove home and went to bed. I did not go to work Thursday, which is still technically today.
May I make note that on my drive home, I noted no evidence of dead turtle upon the road, which could mean several things. One, it was forever erased by the passing of many tyres. The most probable. Or it crept away to die in the great turtle dying lands. Or the version I prefer, it was okay and dandy and went on its way after a slight fright and bump from my car. The curse that befell me belies that though, if one is the believer of curses, as I was not, until I drove over a turtle and woke with a sore back.
Not that I haven’t had a sore back before. I have, many times. Perhaps it is better not to become to carried away with the metaphysics of it all, and just say that it was the day that was.
I spent a disconnected day lying in my bed, snoozing. I did watch a movie I had taped some time earlier, Ruby Sparks; selected for the only reason that I recognised it from a book title we have in the library and I thought therefore I should check it out. One of those improbably romantic movies where a writer’s character comes to life, then really comes to life to live happily ever after. I enjoyed it. It met all my requirements – a happy ending. My movies must have happy endings, or I spend days ruminating in gloom, even though I know it is, or was nothing but creative fiction. There is enough unhappiness in the real world, I don’t need it in my moments of escapism.
So, I watched the movie, ate the fish and chips that Mr FD sourced for us, and fell back to sleep. The television was on as I slept, and somehow it became intertwined with my sleep and I remember waking and thinking that was a great dream; I need to remember that dream, but full consciousness wiped it from my memory instantly. Maybe there never was anything to remember at all. Maybe it was Ruby Sparks.
Tomorrow, Friday is ANZAC Day, which is our memorial day for all those lost in futile wars when we tell ourselves we must never forget, and yet we never stop going to war. Our government announced the purchase of new war planes this very day. Cut the pensions of the retired, make us all work until we are 70 or beyond, but spend billions on war planes. What a perfect world. And yet we lay wreaths of poppies every year and say “Lest we forget”.
My wing is starting to pain, so I shall cease my deep and meaningful and wish you all a good day. We are barbecuing with Daughter1, Mr Boy and Petite Fille, and my sister who I shall always adore. She is the good heart, I the evil. No doubt I shall sit back on my pillows and pontificate to them as well.