Nothing. Today, so far, has been an absolute dream. So was this weekend. Perfect weather. It's been the longest "Indian Summer" I can ever remember. We've only had a very brief cool spell, and that was a week or so ago and didn't last long.
I'll try to keep in mind just how enjoyable it was when the water is lapping at the windows on the 27th floor of my office building on Third Avenue in a couple of years... after the Arctic completes it's meltdown.
No matter, though. By then we'll all be engrossed in WWXIV (between Melanesia and the Portuguese Alliance).
Even this morning's commute into Manhattan went off without a hitch. And THAT'S weird, believe me! Wednesday is coming, though, and if the last 3 catastrophic Wednesday's are any indication, I'm sure the New Jersey Turnpike Authority probably has something up it's sleeve for this week, too!
Sorry. Sometimes I "project the wreckage of the future" as we say in 12-Step programs.
I'm always leery of the other shoe being about to drop. I try hard to be a "glass-half-full" kind of guy, but there are times when it's just easier to expect the worse and to be delighted when it doesn't happen.
I heard a woman share at a meeting recently that "things look fine until I put on my FEAR goggles, then everything looks like shit!" Boy, did I relate to that!
Nobody is about to die. I have no debilitating conditions (well, the diabetes is kicking my ass, but I'm not at death's door (yet)). My bills are paid, I have food, clothing, a roof over my head and a car and the dogs aren't nipping at my rear end.
So things are not only not "wrong" they are, in fact, great.
So how come I don't feel great?
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Addenda:
I think I know one reason. It just dawned on me (I'm so thick sometimes) that the Repuglicans have finally stopped bashing gays (wouldn't want to get too associated with the Matthew Sheperd killing, after all) and have started bashing what gays want, instead.
It's a subtle distinction, rather like it's no longer okay to string up black people, but it's still okay to string up their rights.
I guess I'm a little dispirited because I'm staring down the barrel of 60 and yet I'm still forced to live in 1954.
2 comments:
It's all your fault, then. You had to go open your big mouth and say "nothing is wrong" and then my friend Michele dies suddenly. Thanks a LOT.
I realize that Michele's death is the WORST thing that's ever happened to YOU, because it's ALL ABOUT YOU!
Seriously, though, I'm sorry for your loss. She looked like she was a lot of fun.
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