This short story is not about me. I don’t even have one hundred dollars in my jeans pocket right now, so never mind a million bucks. The bank accounts are pretty empty as well. This has something to do with my impulsive behavior and willingness to take risks every month, particularly towards the end of that month when overdue bills start to pile up. The story’s not about Whitney Houston either. She sang a song about a million dollars or some such some years before she died of a drug overdose.

Family and friends that think they know me can’t believe that I adore books. Books, doesn’t matter what kind it is or whether I ever get around to reading them, are my true and closest friends. Some of them have been neglected for so long that they’ve collected dust on their jackets. Right about now there are piles of them standing in heaps in one corner of my living room. There’s a very good reason for this.

This wasn’t what I was planning to do today. But then it struck me just how much of a good time I was having telling you guys the other day about how I became inspired to start painting and drawing. I must tell you though that I’m not a professional painter by any means. I mainly do this to keep myself out of mischief. But my folks have been telling me for years that I could very easily persist with this hobby because they think that I’m actually quite good.

Here’s the thing. I’m trying to speak my own mind as far as possible. I don’t rely on what others have to say and don’t even listen to them half the time. I’m my own boss and my life is just fine the way it is. The thing is this, I’m going places, not so much because I’ve been a lucky girl or made my own luck or have even worked hard for it, but mainly because I can. That’s my attitude and that’s what I’m sticking to. Let’s just say this then, I’m sticking to my story and I’m going to write it up as I please. But where to begin?

Nope. Not me. I hate gardening. I’m not sure why because I do see the value in it and the positive things it does to folks who are avid gardeners. Even on this apartment block, we have them, pots and troughs belching out over the balconies and fire escapes. And there’s a great smell about the place too. There’s also a very strong smell coming from someone’s apartment, but we’re not going to go there today.