I could have entitled this blog “God moves in mysterious ways” but I thought the “G” word might offend some people. So I’ll stick with “Ag”, i.e. silver, a chemical element with the symbol Ag (from the Latin argentum), a soft, white, lustrous transition metal exhibiting the highest electrical conductivity, thermal conductivity, and reflectivity of any metal. Now you know. (Thanks, Wiki.)
You might recall that last August I had my shoulder bionic-ed (a.k.a. torn rotator cuff sorted), which necessitated slings, opiates (yum yum) and not driving for eight weeks (not so yum yum). All in all, it was a procedure full of pain, angst, inconvenience and constipation, the downside (or cloud) of the opiates, but one upshot (or silver lining) was that Hubby learned how to make flapjacks, although he never got the hang of the difference between whisking and folding for a sponge cake.
You might also recall that last autumn I wasn’t very happy. But I regained my happiness thanks to the most amazing friends, whom I learned to appreciate and love more than ever. I’ve had a bit of a wobble recently but have stabilised and bounced back very quickly, thanks to the lessons learned from the autumn (including those amazing friends again).
When I get not very happy, I lose my appetite to the extent that the pounds fall away. Yay! Problem is, while my favourite jeans’ belt tells me that I’ve recently lost at least two inches off my waist, there’s been a commensurate decrease in my bra size. Bugger! But that means I can eat more chocolate. Yay!
And, of course, one can’t have too much retail therapy when one is under the weather. Most recently, given the loss of weight and the rejuvenated ability to fit into more of my wardrobe, rather than buy clothes, I ordered some CDs. One was something I hear every now and again on Classic FM and that plucks my heartstrings – “Contemplazione” by Alfredo Catalani. The CD arrived yesterday and I’ve played it non-stop. More effective at tempering my anxieties than chamomile tea.
I suppose retail therapy could be defined as buying stuff you don’t need but that makes you feel better, which isn’t very green. As I said in my previous blog, we should “Consume fewer non-essentials, so we’d produce less, transport less, warehouse less, build less, which would result in less pollution including greenhouse gases, and less destruction of greenfield sites that include productive farmland and biodiversity havens.”
The silver lining to me consuming more CDs, however, is that they’re keeping me away from being a drain on the NHS. Although some have said that it’s hypocritical of me to be so concerned for the NHS when I have the temerity to refer to the tax-dodging Jacob Rees-Mogg as sexy. Yeah, I know. Some sense of humour failures are so extreme, the silver lining is that they’re hysterical.
It's difficult to see a sliver lining for the situation in Ukraine. A tenuous one (or perhaps tarnished would be a better adjective given the silver theme) is that those clamouring for divestment from the ‘unethical’ defense industry might now wake up and smell the vodka, realise it’s called ‘defense’ for a reason and that without it we’d be staring down Putin’s gun barrels faster than you could say спокойной ночи.
One more example then I have to go and do something useful. My friend hurt her arm the other day and needed quite a lot of those low-adhesive dressings, of which she had none and I had plenty so I gave mine to her. She’s bought some replacements and is bringing them over this evening, after the sun has gone over the yardarm.
Now that’s the best kind of silver lining.
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