London Bridge is Falling Down...

Did you realize how morbid or sad nursery rhymes are? London Bridge is falling down, falling down... I had a little bird, her name was Enza. I opened up the window and INFLUENZA! Lizzie Borden had an axe... Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall... Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posie... ...and so on. I don't feel like a nursery rhyme today; today, I feel like a bug. An ant to be precise. I am on a mission. My colony is my home. I am strong, I can lift 20 times my own weight and try hard to support my family. I try to give my kids proper nutrition, a clean place to live and eat, an education, clean clothes, and lots of love. I try to support my husband in his work time and rest time. I try to also provide him with a clean home and food on the table. I love him for who he is and for loving me in return, regardless of my faults. I thank him with voiced love and appreciation, with hot meals, clean laundry, a (semi) quiet home, and cable TV! I try not to complain about the lack of assistance with housework, especially since he's really begun to help so much more. I don't see myself as being 'high maintenance.' but maybe I need to re-evaluate. What is the definition of that term? Back to the ant. Just when I think it's all a well organized and efficient ant hill, someone / something / some insecurity, pops up and stomps on my little three-segmented body. *SQUASH* *SPLAT* *SQUISH* Ants aren't so hot. Damn.