The Readers Digest. Now if you can remember those magazines, you are either as old as me, or older. Or you are a collector. Somebody once told me that they were a collector. Oh, really, I asked, what. Everything and anything. I collect it, he said. I suppose that is one way of looking at it. And in this world of alternative facts, and where you can identify as anything you may want to, I suppose even a hoarder can be called a collector. But let’s get back to the Readers’ Digest.

The magazine was first published in 1922 and appeared 10 times a year. It is one of the few things coming out of America that is worth mentioning. Before you get all high-horsey with me about America, I will also tell you that the best thing to come out of Scotland is not Whisky or the road South, but in fact Colin. (I have to say that. He does the publishing, so gotta’ be nice.) The thing about Readers’ Digest, is that they were always small enough to fit in your pocket, but big enough to keep you entertained. The contents were also predictable. One of the sections was called “Laughter is the Best Medicine” – and that is always my starting point in reading the magazine. Last night, I was reminded of how true it is.

You see, the thing is, life these past 3 weeks have just not been good. The flu drove both of us to a point where we were too sick to be sick. Then the flood. Not to mention the endless slog in dealing with bureaucracy and the private sector equivalent of a bureaucrat. Oh, yes. You get those. You know the ones that do not return your calls. The ones where you eventually wonder if you are using an incorrect email. And should you be so lucky to get hold of the person, you have to rewind the story at least 6 weeks to remind them who you are. By that time, you have used up their valuable time, and they can’t help you right now, as they are on their way to a very important meeting. Any very important meeting that takes place at 12H55, is called lunch. And private sector bureaucrats can’t miss those. And then to top it all off? We both picked up a tummy bug. Somehow, private sector bureaucrats are also inclined to get tummy bugs, but they get theirs from Monday through to Thursday. Us mere mortals? We get it when we least need or expect it.

And so, there I was last night. Do you know that point where you just feel so physically, emotionally and mentally battered? That was me. I also knew that it is not one of those moments I could call on Colin for. Remember, he is the one who is too sick to be sick? But I just had to share it with someone. Now, a thing like this you have to be careful how and with who you share it. So, I thought about it, and a name popped into my head. I can tell this friend, and by the time she reads my message, I will be in bed already and – should she reply, it will not matter so much any more in the morning. Oh, dear. In a flash, she responded – can I call? Now that was not part of the plan. A cryptic WhatsApp I could do, but a full-on share was not part of my plan. Please don’t, I responded. I may lose control and you will have to listen to me blowing snot bubbles through my tears! She called anyway. I had to answer. But to do that, I had to get past that wall of emotion. Well, I wasted my time.

As much as we chat on WhatsApp often, we have not had a person to person call for a while. Within 2 minutes of the call, we were both in stitches, and everything that was just so overwhelming a few minutes ago, now was just the funniest thing ever. Eventually, I confessed. One of my trips to the bathroom, I happened to look at the scale.  Never, ever weigh yourself when you carry the world on your shoulders. We spent 40 minutes on the phone. At the end of 40 minutes, I had laughed so much, that I even looked thinner.

Laughter is indeed the best medicine.

But it also reminded me that bad times are only temporary. Telephone friend and myself obviously started our chat off with the usual when last did you speak to this one, and have you heard from that one? We met at a time in both our lives when we had to deal with toxic people and toxic situations. And it was so nice to laugh about not only how little all that mattered to us now, and how life sorted out so much of the nonsense and the people. Karma does not forget an address.

Some years ago, I had to renew a Drivers’ License. I spent absolutely hours sitting in a queue to pay and had plenty time to observe the bureaucratic cashier taking her sweet time. When finally, it was my turn to pay, I walked up to her counter, and ignored the hand she extended, waiting for me to put my money in her hand. Eye contact was clearly not going to happen. Eventually, she looked up, and asked me what my issue was? Oh, I said. I am taking a good look at you, because one day, the tables will be turned, and you will be on the other side of my counter. I want to remember you on that day.

So where does that leave me now? Apart from a cough that will not leave me, I have all but recovered from the flu. We have put coping mechanisms in place to deal with the natural disaster that happened around us. Not ideal, but at least when you have a plan, you can handle the curve balls better. That cheating, lying scale has been kicked back into its corner to gather more dust.

And my private sector bureaucrat? Unlike the cashier lady, I have no idea what he looks like. But I just know that my Minds’ Eye will recognize him, as he is hunched over a flat tyre next to the road. I will ask him how I can help, and I will help him. You see, if you were to throw a stone at every dog that barks at you, you will never reach your destination. (Winston Churchill’s words.)

And sometimes, the best thing you can do is to hand people like that over to time. Time has a way of taking care of things.

My load seemed a lot lighter this morning when I woke up.