Today’s prompt is ‘bone’. I’m loosing my stream of consciousness by fluctuating between. “I’m a bonehead.” and “I have no bones to pick.”
So we’ll start with I’m a bonehead. (I am not! Always challenge yourself when you put yourself down) But I am a bit of a bonehead because I haven’t written for a couple of weeks.
Last week the prompt was ‘can’ and, ironically I didn’t write because I spent so much time in the can. Not successfully, I had the worst bout of constipation ever. I wasn’t going to write about it.
How, you might say, does a vegetarian who eats plenty of fibre get constipated? Good question. I cried that out many times. Good thing I live alone so I could suffer loudly. I’m sure God got tired of my pleading and just turned me off.
The last time this happened, a few years ago, I had eaten a bunch of stale dry-roasted cashews. This time I ate a bunch of stale dry-roasted pistachios.
Anyway, See? I’m a bonehead because I did write about it. Embarrassing, and now everyone thinks I had the flu because I wasn’t going to say I’m in pain from not pooping.
Onward to ‘I have no bone to pick’. I’m not stewing over any alleged slights at the time. Oh, they’re out there but I have chewed all the flavour out of the them and moved the monkey mind over to ‘live and let live’. I guess I’ve picked those bones clean.
Until the next judgemental mind feast.
I don’t care about any of that; I can poop and all is right with the world.