PTSD

something's gone wrong again

In real life, I've somehow managed to do something that is fairly large on the scale of things not to do. It was inadvertent. It was unintentional. But, then, that's what we all say, isn't it? I mean, have you ever heard of somebody who had a spectacular cock up and then confessed it was all their fault? Well, if you have, then you, dear PTSD reader, are a better (wo)man than I am.

The point is that an object of great value is ruined. Well, not utterly ruined but ruined to the extent that it shouldn't have been ruined. A look at the object itself (and it is right by my computer as I type) shows that it looks rather like Dylan Thomas, after a long night out carousing in the Mumbles--raffish and slightly dissipated but still capable of witty conversation and wry self criticisms. You can still engage it in debate but I doubt you'd want to look at it while you were doing so.

The worst part? It's not mine. Yes, some objects of mine were also adjacent to said object and suffered from the same (if not worse) damage. They have all emerged with a slightly yellowish cast to their facade, as though they were hanging out with Conrad's folks in the Heart of Darkness and contracted jaundice while they were wandering about in the jungles. But, overall, they do not matter. They are mine, to do as I will. Not that I willed this torrential downpour. Oh no. I didn't. But, you see what I mean.

It would have to happen on the one day the weather here in Washington, DC decided to become tropical. It rained. It rained some more. And then, it kept on raining. I had an umbrella. It was about as much use as a paper towel. Of course, it was also the day that people drove about as though they were Michael Schumacher. Don't get me wrong--I'm all in favour of driving through water pools. It is fun to do so. But, not when I happen to be the person walking on the pavement or trying to cross various streets.

The upshot? Well, you read about that already. I've tried Lance-Corporal Jones' dictum but it's not working, I don't have money to fly to the US Virgin Islands (the only place, barring home, I wouldn't need a visa to go to) and I haven't got the balls (in all senses of the term) to confess in person.

So, yous get this.

posted by Priya @ 10:27 AM