Futility

You know how when one is so sick, it's too exhausting to walk or get out of bed, one's wish is for someone to bring some comfort food. Pat the head a little and tuck into bed. Of course C will always be happy to bring me food, but also very true to form, he will be late. Very late. Today, a record of 2.5hrs (and I nary a whine). I often say to him how one day should I be kidnapped and he is tasked to deliver the ransom, he'll turn up - eventually - after being very late, and I will be a bag of rotting bones. On my grave, the headstone he carved will probably say, "I was late, but at least I tried".