Prompt from here.
Masterchef Canada’s on the TV.
My desktop timer will ring in 20 minutes to tell me free-writing time’s up.
I’m at home, half-confined due to being injured by something that I don’t know what to do with at the moment. My legs hurt. I feel like House. You know Greg House? The one played by Hugh Laurie?
Yep. That one. Except I don’t have pretty eyes (if you watched the show and saw the close up of his eye colour, you’ll see what I mean).
I have an almost-zero will to get my butt off the bed ever since I found out about the leg injury yesterday at the hospital, because apparently what I thought was nothing for the last one year has been accumulating to the point when I couldn’t walk without pain.
One thing I realised yesterday, though, was the fact that I love my legs more than that something I’ve been fighting for the last 1.5 years.
About 2 weeks ago, my current boss asked me the reason I work.
That. One. Question.
“Why do you work?”
I had to hide my smile but stayed silent because I know exactly the reason why I work.
It’s something that’ll probably cause your boss’s eyebrows raise.
“Because I want to see the world.”
What I realised yesterday was the statement wasn’t complete.
It’s supposed to go like…
“Because I want to see the world and walk it with my own two legs.”