I am really such a wuss.
And why, you might ask, do I think I am a wuss ?
Well, the other day, when a former acquaintance of mine decided to steal my bag containing all my cards and cash, and I in fit of misappropriated machismo elected to chase him down the hill in my car and on return from this hapless venture stalled the vehicle and locked the steering wheel, and abandoned it there to the next day when James with brute force and luck, got the whole thing free and functioning.
And I was thrilled and grateful
till I had to go to town, and the thought , the mere idea that the car might do this stunt again--for surely it was the car, not I --gave me an upset stomach and a good excuse for no going. That day.
But today I ran out of excuses, and slowly and carefully I started the journey to town with lots of twitters in my stomach.
And it all went well.
Whatever happened before was a freakish happening
but I still had a whole colony of butterflies in my stomach when I drove to town and returned.
And that is why I am a wuss.