The Life of A Tragic Heroinne:  Money Does Not Matter For Her …  Yet it matters …  But ‘ya think she gives a fuck?  Of course not!

Here I was last night in the same spot I am right now thinking about everything and anything that didn’t have to do with money. 

There I was watching a highly improbable – a total fantasy world – not the one created in my head, but in the head of others, in this case a Korean serial set in an age of Chivalry and Romance. 

Those were the times of Decorum and Subtlety where lovers had to communicate with more subtle cues to show interest in the opposite sex. Beautiful costumes adorn the young prince who is in love with a Commoner who is gifted in designing clothing – an Artist of the texture of senses through fabrics.  And touch. 
So here I am almost 62. 

 

And I still don’t give a fuck about money. However, somehow I have managed to survive – more than survived, even though the lesson gets harsher with each passing year – because it eventually drops in my lap when I most need it. 

Call it Providence. 
Maybe even Divine Providence, come to rescue it’s dumb offspring plopped on the world of Materialism and bouncing around like a 2 year old. 
Everywhere. 
But why should that matter?

In terms of time anyway. 

At 46, she had no idea she was doing this until her friend told her she was totally off – numerically and in Time. 

Damn. I’m 47 already!

Imagine that 

And then Judy in the driest of Wit says as lovingly as capable and with a nasal accent crescendo – ing. 

You’re not 47. 

You’re 46!

And then the dim one saying with total wonder …

I am?  
Damn. I thought I was 47 for almost all year.  


KNOW  I’m really bad in Arithmetic, like 2% IQ for it, but thought more highly of my communication skills. 
How did I miss that one?

Easy. 
Here she was almost 62 and still playing!
Hopping around and tasting the Absurdity of the Human Climate. 
And not liking it one bit. 

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