Friday, December 5, 2008
What does one write about when one can’t think of anything to say. This is a recurring subject on the blog of St. Billy but he still manages to waffle on for a few hundred words. I know demons are supposed to have the gift of the gab but where does one start?
I had a long talk with someone about this yesterday. When someone offends you to a degree that you still bristle five years later what do you do? This happened to Julie. She loathes and detests a particular person, yet Harold adores them and invites them to the house, arranges to meet them in town and so on. There is nothing, short of moving out, that Julie can do about it. ‘Like it or lump it,’ as the saying goes.
What is she to do? If she continues to moan Harold will eventually tire of her whimpers and become resentful. The renewed friendship might be more important than the ‘old slipper’ comfort level in which Harold regards Julie, in which case it becomes time for a new wardrobe. Or Julie’s ‘old slippers’ can shuffle down to make room for the sparkling new leather slippers with go-faster stripe.
Her choice becomes plain: Swallow your pride or move into a bedsit with no friends. It’s no contest, really. Pride is a mortal sin, anyway. Better to box it up and leave it in the loft.