Life owes me a refund. “No!” you may howl, “Life owes you nothing!” I disagree. Life has been taking the piss. Life has been taking my energy and my effort and my hope and my commitment and misappropriating it. No one has died (except my immune system and my positive outlook) so this is small claims court stuff. It’s not on a ‘Why hast thou forsaken me’ scale. But Judge Judy, I feel, would rule in my favour. Jeremy Kyle would shout at life. “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER” he would yell. And, at that point, I would stop finding Jeremy Kyle incredibly annoying and I would feel that he was a very wise man.
If I had bought my life from M&S, the nice and strangely sage-like lady who always seems to deal with customer services (yes, I know there is more than one but they are all nice and strangely sage-like. Ditto John Lewis) would give me my money back. She would see that this was not a credit note situation. She would understand.
Because life has been buggering about. Gaslighting me in small ‘We have no record of your purchase’ ways. My life is doing a kind of Piers Morgan impression. Trying to get a rise. And as I sit here, with no recourse, depleted and a bit ill, a bit confused, I want to know – WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME – how to get what I am owed. Out of life.
It’s like the argument I had with my health insurance the other day when they put up my premium presumably because I am old. And a woman (maybe not but let’s be angry anyway). And I calculated that I have spent about 30 grand on health insurance over the last twenty years or so and have claimed back maybe two grand. Probably less. Really what I am saying is that, although I am a grown-up, I still find it hard to be philosophical about things being unfair. Big things I can get my head around. Everything happens for a reason and all that trite jazz. But the cumulative small stuff. I want a return on my damn investment, Life. Please.