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Allegory
I Forget My Own Good Advice
We are not ‘better than this’ — it’s a never-ending quest to be.
“I dished out sound advice, this morning.”
“Well done!” said Cricket.
“No, not ‘well done.’ I’m a hypocrite. I have broken my own rules twice in two days.” I peered into my reflection on the breakfast table and wanted to punch myself in the face.
“Only twice?” asked Cricket, laughing. “It’s always easier to give advice than to follow it.”
“Aren’t you full of clichés, this morning,” I grumbled, uncharitably. I knew that Cricket was only trying to help, but I was in a mood for self-flagellation, not to be handed handy excuses.
“Sure, but it’s true, isn’t it?” said Cricket. “I mean, things only become clichés because they are overused, and they are only overused because they’re so appropriate in the moment.”
I scowled into my coffee. It was dark and bitter, just the way I normally like it. We are what we eat. I tossed it into the sink. Opened the fridge. Scanned its contents. Closed the fridge. Opened it again. Shot myself with a silver bullet and gave myself an earworm likely to last for days. Could be worse, I thought. Slammed the door shut, then reached for it again.