The Lord and Master of the Crocodile Castle was born with a need
to worry, when there is nothing to worry about, he makes something
up, either I am too quiet or too talkative; he used to worry about my
wayward family without medical insurance and yet they never asked
him for anything, now he is worrying about our children not insuring
themselves - he has to worry to stay alive - he has to find a bone of
contention and fight it to the ground
Worrying is his inner gauge telling him life is worth living and since I
enjoy being contrary and giving absurd replies - or recount bizarre
experiences like A Thousand Ways To Die, he goes into paroxysms
of fear and turns it around and around in his mind, trying to extricate
himself from the conundrums in life by arguing with me about being
illogical - and it takes me quite a while to calm him down after telling
him about the lady who killed her husband
While planning on killing her kids also - I shouldn’t plague him so, but
unfortunately, the funny and extraordinary holds such charm for me; it
is a difficult dance to harmonise our opposing attitudes to life - though
with great effort I manage to tell him how brilliant his worrying is, how
successful he is in keeping the things he worries about away from us:
wish he could learn to relax, to allow the Lord to take care of the world
while he only needs to take care of himself
No comments:
Post a Comment