Well Played

As most of you regulars know, I have a fleece I like to wear. I've described it in another post. It's a Goodwill find that I love, a garment that originally came from Old Navy. Would I have paid full price for it? Probably not. But I didn't have to, it's warm, and ever since I found out that Tara didn't like it, I've worn it more often. Not that she can see me or anything. It's the principle: she doesn't like the fleece, therefore I wear it.

Well, late last week, as I looked for something to put on one morning, I realized that I couldn't find my fleece. I knew that I had washed it, but also knew that I had scads of other sweaters I could use. I thought nothing of the missing fleece and went on my way.

But I thought of it again, yesterday morning, when I wrote my oh-so-lovely poem. That poem might not be a prize winner, but writing it proved to be very useful. After reading it, my lovely sister, Tara, sent me a message. Apparently, she had hijacked my fleece. It was currently hiding itself on a fish.

Here's what I came to find out.

1. Tara called and asked Zoe to set my fleece aside. Zoe had reservations, but caved to the evil ways of her aunt and did as Tara requested.
2. When my friend Cindy came by for dinner, Zoe gave said fleece to Cindy.
3. Cindy sent the fleece to Tara.
4. Tara put the fleece on the fish.

Where will the fleece end up? Who knows? It might travel the world. In fact, I think it should. Send the fleece on a journey and see where it might go. I can handle the loss of the fleece, because I have my sights set on something else. That fish. Someday, I will get that fish.

There is a lesson to be learned in all of this: you can't trust anyone, even those from your own body. Even those you grew up with. Even those you thought were your friends. I say this in jest, of course. These were actions well played. Well played, indeed.