True Stories of Hope And (Mostly) Despair
Never Get Up
It's 7am. In that half awake dream state, I hear Winston Churchill say,
Warm and fuzzy in my bed, I'm relieved to hear those encouraging words because yesterday I cried a lot and worried that somehow, against all odds, I was going to be trapped in finance forever.
Over and over again I hear,
Never ever, ever, ever, ever ever give up.
Never give up. Never ever give up.
I smile sleepily. I won't ever give up. My fuzzy thoughts float from Winston's advice to last night's Homeland finale to the morning light and the cool breeze quietly slipping through the window. I roll over and snuggle deep into the covers.
Never ever, ever, ever, ever ever get up.
Some time later, it dawns on me that Winston's words have changed. Over and over again I'd begun hearing,
Never get up.
Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever get up.
Never. Get. Up.
I am never getting up.
I'm awake now. I think about calling in sick. But eventually I get up.
I go to the bank.
Linking with love: photo of a bank