What’s the Pointe?

The universe seems intent on keeping me on my toes this month, teaching me to take the good with the bad. For every little win there’s a loss, and along with every victory shimmy comes a messy slice of humble pie. Although I know this, I’m still never quite through gloating before I get my feet knocked out from under me.

Just since February first, I got a nice chunk of change back from the IRS, but the job I put in for in California got shot down by my vindictive boss. I knocked a minute and thirty seconds off my mile-and-a-half time, then had to lock horns over the resulting shin splints with an obstinate orthopedic doctor who never bothered to read my medical file. I have stretched my runs to four, five, seven, then nine miles in preparation for April’s half marathon, but find each week my carefully balanced diet and exercise plan fails to halt my creeping weight gain. I got stellar marks on my annual performance review, but had to endure a lengthy verbal exposition of my alleged shortcomings in exchange.

My two-week trip to Italy has finally come together, my boss got transferred to another state, and the Nissan dealer quickly replaced my spastic radio at no charge, but in the meantime I’ve endured the juvenile machinations of spiteful coworkers, inconsiderate neighbors who cannot be reasoned with, and a boundary-challenged section superintendent who thinks he is The Boss Of Me.

It’s been a long two weeks and my effing toes hurt.

Because I post here, I don’t really have anything to post here. I might try someday anyway. What is your Wish for the World? I don’t accept notes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t comment.