Damn Right I Will!

 

It is an entirely reasonable supposition

that as thinking, intelligent creatures

we have it in us to learn by our mistakes

at the very least exercise due caution

when undue incidents result from bad

habit. In my case, haste. 'Make haste' was

an expression so commonly used in

Victorian literature for after all at times

much can depend on it for situational

outcomes. With me, everything is a situation

whose outcome rests on my capacity to

perform tasks swiftly; it is my very nature

my DNA. There's another old adage

act in haste, repent at leisure, and that is

precisely what I'm doing, with (sigh)

yet another black eye to prove just that.

I've lived my life in a hurry, simply too

much to do and see and look after and

the outcome is being accident-prone. Surely

an improvident condition, yet all mine.

Falls, head-splits, unintentional acrobatics

without end and consequentially colourful.

Expletives to salve the anger that I've done

it again, pain to flood my senses reminding

me that I've done it again, then swiftly the

swelling and eventually those bloody awful

hematomas crawling over my cranium

and a spreading dark shadow encircles my

eyes. Out in public, stares. Knowing stares.

An abused woman. My husband the gentlest

man on Earth suffers the nasty ignomy of 

a reputational bruise. Does he mind? No.

Why do people make such assumptions? Aha

next time I see a woman with inexplicable

bruising will I judge? Damn right I will!