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When I found out this morning that Spain had won the Euro Cup, I told The Other Half that I ought to have put money on it.

Because way before Germany was ousted from the semi-finals, I had already been telling people that the finals would be between Spain and Italy. While we were going home last night, I told The Other Half that Spain would win but if it goes into penalties, Italy will win.

Rats. I missed out narrowly on a windfall, which may or may not enable me to quit my job, which I certainly trewely felt like doing on this day of the undecided weather.

*

I got into a Chrysler Limo Cab this afternoon with my usual court bag and my undertaker outfit.

When I told the taxi driver that I was going to the Subordinate Courts, I could see his face fall. He probably thought that I was going to the airport. A lot of them do when confronted with the sight of a girl in a suit dragging a document case.

The truth is that I can’t go anywhere. I ain’t got nothing but a briefcase-full of notional money that doesn’t belong to me.

*

So in this season of losses, of broken hearts, of impending disasters, all I could do is sit in the bar room drinking too much tea, feeling depressed, when tea does nothing but keeps me in a state of un-sleep, all the better to ponder and mull over the notional money which I had lost while I sit at my desk, paralysed by my dark mood, thereby adding to the vicious cycle leading inexorably towards that impending disaster.

*

Let me mourn today, I said, in response to The Buddha standing at my door asking me why I look like the world has all gone wrong.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel better in my navy blue polka-dot dress, I’ll find someone suitable to hire, I’ll stop feeling undecided and existential, I’ll finally mark out my available dates in August for that beach holiday.

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