How do you put a value on a person?

My value as a blogger? Probably not high given my frequency (which as we know is infrequent).

My value as a maid is definitely zilch. I’m pretty good at making messes, not so good at cleaning them up, particularly when baking – I’m a catastrophe then. Cooking is only marginally better. Luckily we have a housekeeper who comes in every two weeks to set our house in order.

Facebook tells me that I have 96 friends, so I guess 96 people value me as a friend, or at least want to use me to pad their friends list.

This site sets my Twitter value at $24. That’ll buy you about four Venti Chai Lattes and two lemon loafs, with a bit of change to spare. Or one very nice skein of yarn.

Some people might set my value by how much money I make, but right now I make no money. Actually now all I do is spend money (groceries, bills, baby), so does that assign me a negative value? On Judgement Day, will I be handed a bill showing my balance owing?

How about my value as a mother? As a wife? As a daughter, sister, sister-in-law? As a friend? There are so many ways you can compartmentalize your value and come up seemingly lacking by looking at only one segment.

There is a quote by Michel de Montaigne: “The value of life is not in the length of days, but in the use we make of them; a man may live long yet very little.”

I like that way best.

You know how animals have an uncanny ability to stare at a wall, as if they see something incredibly interesting on it when all that you see is … a wall?

Abby has a habit of doing that during her middle of the night changings. Except in her case, she’s staring up over my shoulder, as if someone is standing there behind me. FREAKS ME RIGHT OUT EVERY SINGLE TIME. It plays into that little part of me that wonders if ghosts are real and that can’t look at a mirror at night without thinking of the “Bloody Mary” myth. And the part that has to close the closet door before I go to bed, or I can’t sleep.

I always force myself to look, knowing full well that there is nothing/no-one there, but there’s always a part of me that is still relieved to confirm it.

Yes, my mind works in weird and mysterious ways.