The leg bone connected to the knee bone, the knee bone connected to the thigh bone

Yes, you know the song.  And once you think of it, you will probably end up like me, humming it endlessly the whole day long.  If you really don’t know it, here is a link to a video clip of 4 old men singing like they know all about bones.

Lately I’ve started to suspect that I got re-plumbed somewhere between my childless youth and now.

Long ago in my long gone youth (oh poor me) I never cried just because.  There had to be a reason.  A very good reason.  Like a guy messing around with my naive heart.  Or exams coming up too fast – faster than I managed to study for it, anyway.  And if you’ve known me since then, you would know that I rarely studied and that all exams rushed towards me too quickly.  May my children never be like I was. 😉

Then, after children and after the last couple of years, I started tearing up about the weirdest and arb-est things ever.  I was crying crocodile tears reading Sarah’s comment on my last post.  My tear glands simply start up and I can’t do anything to stop it.  The rest of me is absolutely fine and not crying at all, but it’s like no-one gave my eyes the memo (does that even make sense).

When I was at university the students referred to a constant crier as someone who has their “bladder connected to their eyes”.  Now I know the feeling.  Is it possible to maintain hydrostasis through tear-associated water loss?  I think so.  So for the next hour I will attempt to prove that I can cry out all the liquid that I take in.

At least I’m not alone in my crying – Berno says that he knew Lielie was pregnant with their second child when she burst into tears watching the Pampers ad on TV.  And we used to mess with Tats at work, because any remotely sad story would have her tearing up.

So please excuse me for a moment.  I am off to make tea to start my experiment.  Call it research.