I have been blessed with the gift of good health. I rarely get colds, much less anything more dreadful. But, from time to time, like today, I catch a bug. Unused to having things hurt, I'm no better than a mewling, puking baby and the world stops for me. I have this theory that if I just stay very still and concentrate on not moving at all, I can will myself well. Most of the time, it works. Today while I was lounging about in my bed, trying to sleep in the stifling heat compounded by the press of one dog, one large furry cat and Princess' little monster kitten, it dawned on me that you really do have to be careful what you wish for.
Yesterday I was mourning the rejection of Ophelia, my big furry cat. Last night, she decided to come back in the house after 46 days. She hasn't left my side since. Her hair is up my nose, she's so fat she makes whatever of my body parts she's chosen to lay on go to sleep, and when she decides to hop up on the desk, I can't see my computer screen. Wish granted, thanks.
Several months ago I was hoping that our publishing company would take off and succeed on our terms. Today I have one book to read for final edit, one author's dream to crush, a contract to complete and several reviewers to chase down and check up on. Wish granted, gee thanks.
Last year at this time I was wishing that the visit from my friend down under would be the fun, exciting, interesting event we'd been writing about for so long. It was, and now I miss her company every single day. Wish granted... I have stopped wishing for anything, the price is too darn high!