High Low, Silver Lining...

I'm having a bit of a heart attack.

All the low lows, mid lows, lows, and high lows are all intact, thanks very much.

And even some low highs and high highs.

No problem there. In the bank.

At ease.

But that jumbo bucket o'guts staring at me from the corner of the harbour has been overflowing for a while now.

And I'm this close to giving the fucker a running kick.

This close.

It'd make me feel a whole lot better. Absolutely no doubt. But I'm also so very aware that I'm also so very likely, so very likely, to go slipping on my arse.

Maybe land on my bum and after the inability to exhale has passed, come round, a little bruised, wipe off the guts and move on.

But my boots are a little worn down, only fit for pootling around the harbour walls shouting at the gulls and my wallet isn't padded enough to cushion the fall, so I'm more concerned that I'm more likely to suffer a more undignified fate.

You know. Miss the bucket altogether and end up in the harbour.

Put my foot in the bucket and slide into the harbour.

Slip, slide, head into the bucket.

Into the harbour.

Slippity, slop.

Splash.

...