Of moths and mischief

Apologies.

Yeah, I didn't post yesterday. I was very, very tired. Immediately before I dropped off to sleep, a moth started throwing itself against the ceiling. After a while I got up and - eventually - crushed the moth; injuring my thumb in the process. Then it took me another hour or so to settle (or so it seemed). And then I dreamt that I was being bombarded by a room-full of moths. I don't much mind moths if they're keep themselves to themselves; but when they are making a lot of noise or (even imaginatively) hurling themselves at me, there is only so much I will put up with. So I woke up thrashing around at the dreamscape moths. It wasn't a nightmare as such; more of a night-annoyance.

Then I had to get up early to put the washing out. Only for some reason the washing machine hadn't turned on, so it wasn't ready. I say for some reason, the 'on' button hadn't been pushed in. I could have sworn that I did push it in; but maybe a moth flew against the button during the night, popping it back out again.

Oh, and then the freezer decided to start defrosting.

So not a good day all in all. And then add to that that my sleep was rather disturbed anyway as I wasn't sure if I had made the right decision under a dilemma; and I wouldn't find out for a least a day (I actually still haven't yet).

The dilemma was one very much ruled by Murphy's Law. If it could go wrong, it would. Regardless of what decision I made, it would be the wrong one. It's an amalgum of a Hobson's Choice with a Morton's Fork stuck in for good measure. I might call it Basil's Law: regardless of what decision you actually make; it can only go wrong.

So the Hobson's Choice: do I do something or nothing? In true Morton's Fork style, neither option seemed to have any benefit. Either I do nothing and things carry on muddling along with a slightly discomforting feeling; or I do something.

The problem is, if I were to do something I might kick the hornets nest; stir things up a bit; rock the boat; muddy the waters; bait the bear; put the cat amongst the pigeons. What should be seen as offering up an olive branch as a gesture could - from a distance - be seen as waving a big stick in aggression. Should I, perhaps, let sleeping dogs lie? Should I, perhaps, abandon the use of such clichéd metaphors?

Let us take, for example, the ghost from the weekend. One of my friends suggested I should send a text saying something along the lines of "Hey, think I might have seen you on the train, are you in Manchester."

I have to say, I did very well to resist this - usually once such a seed has been placed in my head I run with it and convince myself that it is the most absolutely correct thing to do... right up until the moment I press send and then my body is filled with dread.

So, Morton's Fork in this circumstance:
Left Fork: I send the text and either get something back saying bugger off you stalkerish freak; or worse still I hear nothing and give even more body to the ghost.
Right Fork: I don't send the text and I never know if anything could have come from it.

As I say, I did nothing. Who's to know if I had sent the text and spend a wild, passionate, entire weekend in bed with the dishy doctor David? Sometimes it is better to just leave these things to the mists of mystery.

Anyhow, as regards the current dilemma I did pull the tail of the pig. I made the gesture. As I say, I still don't know how it has turned out. Hopefully it will be taken with good grace or even gratitude, in the pleasant and friendly spirit it was intended. If not you can probably expect to see me running around town through muddy water chased by a bear, a previously slumbersome dog, a cat and a lot of miffed pigeons, and a nests-worth of hornets.

Now, how do I shoe-horn the rocky boat into that?