A woman of means

So I spent my Monday evening doing a bit of mending. There’s nothing glamorous about that. I had a couple of popped seams to sew up, that’s all. As I threaded my needle, the hubby asked what I was doing. His response, when I told him was:

“That’s because you’re a woman of means.”

I laughed, because it’s not something you hear very often, but then I started thinking about the idea of a woman of means. It’s vague, and general. Surely any of us can be a woman of means? We all have ‘means’, whether they be cooking, accounting or mountaineering. Each and every human being has something they are good at, that they can contribute to life. Sometimes that ‘thing’ might not be very obvious, but you just wait until you need someone to help you stretch aching limbs or suggest new music and see if their means don’t leap up and whack you in the mush.

Isn’t that fantastic? All of us, women and men, adults and children, every human being has a purpose and a talent. That’s all I wanted to say, really, but if that doesn’t make you feel all warm and fuzzy on a Friday morning I don’t know what will.

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