Crap!

All the subtly dirty words came to mind, the ones most of us use only to ourselves and never in polite company.

Fubar

Snafu

Sh*t

Son of a biscuit and grandma, too.

DAMN!!!!!

What brought on my tirade of expletives is not important. It only matters that I was beyond upset, on the verge of well-deserved tears and fit to be tied.

I tried so hard, I really did. I was sweet, loving and tender. I kept my hands soft and fragrant. I didn't wear anything where I had to fool with buttons.  I was careful. 

And still, even with all that gentle sweetness that is me, the unthinkable happened.

I tried to be brave.  It was a little speck compared to the cosmos. The loss hit me with far too much power.

I had, after all, seen it  the  first time some two years ago. Like the proverbial thunderbolt that strikes one and creates a sensation of joy that is almost unbearable, this...this...THING hit me. And now that it is gone, though I know there will be another, the memory is burned into my brain.

I love quickly. I forget slowly.  Everything feels different now. I hide. I have lost confidence, even to shake hands.

Woe is me......I'm going to walk into the shop tomorrow and get chastised for my carelessness. I have to be healed before my secret is out.

I broke a nail.