Paving a Parking-lot with Paradise

Paperboy, from Book of Zombie Apocalypse — 
Today I hit my head on the freezer trying to pull out a bag of rotten cucumbers from the fridge below. My hands were full trying to get as much as I could in the least amount of trips from the kitchen counter and back. I was already frustrated, having installed two lighting fixtures after removing them both and swapping them with each other earlier in the day. They didn’t work to bring light where they were installed, so with my time I decided to correct it all. The fixtures were designed horribly, both of them, requiring that whoever wished to install them needed to stand on a ladder, balancing with a tiny screwdriver in one hand, the wire connectors in the other, and the fixture itself pinned between head and shoulder to keep it from pulling out wires and falling to the floor. One of them fell. Two bulbs were shattered below, across the kitchen’s hoard.

But, I had to get to a Zoom meeting, so dropped everything to take the call. Then the morning texts started streaming in… buzz… buzz… buzz… my pocket began to scream. Luckily, I had had a chance to wander around the mud-puddles in the nature reserve with my dogs earlier in the day; but, it would have been great if I had had the proper boots to wear. My last hike finished exactly as the souls of my shoes unglued and began flopping about, spraying mud hither and thither. So to tell, I wore my work shoes instead, since THE BEST NEWS had been unfolded prior: that “today” was the first day of my vacation! Yay!! I was informed thus as I furiously prepared lesson plans for the first day’s online teaching session the following week … um … yeah, that ‘would’ have been today.

So, breathing in the freshly cleaned air out in the nature reserve, we walked into the woods—along with everyone else wandering while wondering what’n the #*LL to do with a world gone mad, what to do with the kids, what to do with our time, what to do about dwindling … um … home-economics, what to do about getting along with meters between, and what to do about MY vision of me. Everything had changed. I know how to throw a pot on a wheel, I know how to make a forge. I’ve read many things, philosophies and such, and if I so choose my thumb is as green as they come. But … what to do about who I am? Should I paint it? Or, should I write? Should I build it, or should I just fight… Who the #*LL am I in this new damn world. Somebody or something has just hit the reset button, and didn’t think to tell me…

The beginning. 

Popular posts from this blog

Am Israel Khai / עם ישראל חי

The Open Window

Paper Plane

Family Couch

The Difference between Inspiration and Impulsivity

Three Thumbs


From Pickles to Bubble Gum

Gan Eden

Moshe and Worlds of Time