It’s dark. It’s late. I’m lying in bed. Awake. My mind begins to ponder life’s inscrutable mysteries. What if something terrible happens and I’m a widow and I have to lie in this bed alone for the rest of my life? What if they never get the Fujiyama reactor under control and nuclear armageddon oozes over the world from the waters of the Pacific Ocean? What if the government shutdown leads to the end of civilization as we know it and we are reduced to shooting our neighbors and eating rats? When I seek solace in the arms of my beloved, his standard half-awake response is, “Oh, shut up and go back to sleep.”
A few days ago, we were mildly late for morning chores. Rodney was in a state, ‘Where have you been?’ Pause to trot back and forth in stall. ‘You weren’t here! Breakfast is late!’ Spin and hop. ‘There is no food! There will never be food again!’
My husband is right. These fits look silly from the outside.