Going back to what I said earlier in the week about achieving a kind of serenity, life being what it is gotten in the way of my good intentions. It is said that God laughs when we tell him our plans. Well, from today onward, I’m telling him nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
Take that, God. Put that in your pipe and smoke. See how you like being ignored.
What I need now is a punching bag. When I get one, I’m going to fill it with bits of serenity, then beat, squash and punch it to an inch of its life.