Call A Referee

Ladies and gentlemen look at this incredible fight. I just can’t turn away. Life lands a powerful combo. Cece staggers but lands an incredible uppercut of her own. But she’s winded folks, and Life’s jabs just keep on coming. Oh. Oh no. The cut above her eye is bleeding profusely, blinding her. Ow, Life hands a hard right to the jaw. Cece staggers. Where’s the Ref? Where’s the bell? Isn’t this round over yet? Cece is taking a pounding. Someone call the referee!

Sometimes it feels like I’m in a boxing match with Life. I am getting my ass handed to me. Am I holding my own? Sure. Is it entertaining? Maybe. Do I want it to stop?

I wish life didn’t feel so much like a continual boxing match. I get in a few good punches, but inevitably, Life knocks me on my butt and taunts me, Muhammad Ali style.

I do believe that the universe ultimately strives for balance. And therefore, Life strives for balance as well. For every bad situation Life hands you, it provides a good one on an equal value. Still, I am not afraid to admit that sometimes it feels like Life is a heavy weight champ beating the hell out of a light weight, for practice.

The last three weeks feel like a match gone wrong. Someone call the referee! Woman down!

I just keep telling myself, wait for the bell (the weekend). But then, Monday happened, and it wasn’t much better. So, I said, wait for the next round. Saturday came and went with no discernible difference and all of a sudden, it’s Tuesday again. No change.

Then the bell sounds. The round is over, and now for the first time in weeks I can pull in a lungful of air.

“Ma’am, the repairs for your car ended up being less than your deductible.”

“Maybe you should apply for that job. You’re more than qualified.”

Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like Cece is back in this fight!

 

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