That mojo that I’ve been lamenting all week has still not come back. There is no sign of the sparky, determined, resourceful Linda. In her place is a shell. I feel a bit like all three of Dorothy’s companions rolled into one. I’ve lost my brain, my courage and my heart. I know the Wizard of Oz can’t fix me up so finding my mojo is critical.

The hunting continues. The hours wasted looking in every nook and cranny, scanned every face in every crowd, hung around on street corners hoping it’ll pass by and walked for miles seeking it. Hope has been fading by the day.

So here was I, minding my own business, doing the chores. I’d just sorted the washing, pulled open the drawer to shove in a pile of socks and there it was, looking up at me. I reached inside and grabbed but once again it slipped straight through my fingers and away from my grasp. Do you know what? As it escaped, I heard something…I heard it laughing. Laughing at my incompetence and my desperation. Laughing because once again it had got the better of me. Laughing because it could.

Next time I’ll be ready for it. I’ll open the drawers the tiniest crack to see if it’s there before it can get away!