What? Still here?

You wacky people, hanging around here day after day.  I just don’t get you, given how sporadic my posting has been lately.  But thanks for sticking around.  Here’s the thing, lately: in some areas, my personal life is in a shambles.  Not least of which, right now, because it’s likely my husband will need Yet Another Surgery.  It’s getting tiresome – this is the fourth.  And we’d hoped the third time was the charm.  But when certain events go on in life, it has a wonderful clarifying effect, in this case, to wit: in the eternal scheme of things, what I normally write about is pretty totally inconsequential.  But hey, politics is an entertaining enough hobby; I substitute it for sports.  In truth, politics are better because sports lack that impact on day to day life like how much it costs to fill up your gas tank and buy a head of arugula.

Moving on… I’m having a just terrible time focusing these days.  Every time I leave the house, I’m bombarded with stories.  If you saw that movie Unbreakable with Bruce Willis you’ll have some idea what I mean – toward the end he realized part of his superpower was he could know things about people he bumped into.  If you can call an overactive imagination a superpower, I have it in spades, and it behaves a lot like what Bruce Willis experienced in the movie.

It would take too long to type out the whole story, but here’s a sampling.  At the store the other day I saw a guy shopping with his little girl.  Sadly, he was alone because his wife had died in a car accident when the girl was a few months old.  The motherless girl became an overachiever because she never wanted to let her dad down.   She took the gold in the sport pistol competition in two Olympics.  Later she became a trainer at FBI headquarters.  Her dad was still proud, but he’d have been so in any event.  Then there was the guy leaving the Burger King restroom.  He looked really cranky and I got out of his way because I realized that his adult daughter, a researcher at a government lab housed near the University of New Orleans, had been kidnapped by eco-terrorists who wanted to destroy the formula of the DDT variant she had nearly perfected.  It didn’t harm birds at all.  Dad was being sent on a wild goose chase all over the city to pick up their demands; just busywork to delay his calling the cops, because the ecoterrorists intended to kill her all along.  They wanted the mosquitos to continue to spread malaria as a method of population control, you see, so we don’t all murder Gaia with our carbon-producing selves.  See what I mean?  I can’t look at people without concocting some wild tale about them in the blink of an eye.  It’s amusing, granted.  I certainly don’t miss television; I’m making my own – with no commercials!  But I’m having a hard time getting things done, with all this daydreaming.  I get the basic story in a quick flash, but then I could – if I let myself – spend hours fleshing out subplots and unifying the whole thing.

And tomorrow – well, it’s “today” now, since it’s now nearly 1am – I have a couple of meetings to attend.  One business and one related to the shambles.  So posting will once again be light.  These days I’m doing well to get two posts written a day, but by the end of the week things will hopefully have settled down some.