Well, it's that time of year again, when the clocks spring ahead.
 |
| photo attribution below |
Somewhere inside your brain, there's an awakening. Spring, which has become an abstract concept these last awful months, comes into focus. There will be flowers. And birds. And more daylight hours to do stuff. No need to huddle indoors and binge watch mystery crime series on BritBox. (Guilty, as charged.)
And yet...
I'm not quite ready to reenter the world. With all the nonsense going on in our government, will there be any rangers in my favorite parks to guide and instruct? Will I drive into a chuckhole that the city couldn't afford to fill, never to be seen again? Will I be able to afford to eat? And what's happening to all the butterflies (their numbers have dropped 22% since 2000).
Reading the final report about Gene Hackman and his wife, Betsy Arakawa, has got me thinking, too. Turns out, Ms. Arakawa died from a respiratory infection while Hackman, who had advanced Alzheimer's Disease, passed away a week later when his heart gave out.
The thing that got me is that it took two weeks for anyone to miss them. And it was a stranger – a maintenance worker – who raised the alarm.
Hmm, thinks me. How long would it take for someone to miss Mr. Ginley and me if we kicked off? The only ones who are in daily contact with me (well, weekdays, anyhow) are my coworkers. If I didn't log in for several days, would they send the cavalry or assume I'd just done a runner?
Then I realized that if we both went toes up, we wouldn't care, anyhow. Although that leaves the cat, and I wouldn't want her to suffer.
I know, how morbid for a Saturday morning, eh?
Maybe all this will be cured by a dose of springtime. It's supposed to be in the 50s this week, so that should help a little.
In the meantime, I think I'll tuck into a cup of hot chocolate and another episode of Vera.
Bye for now, luv.
Photo Attribution: Jorge Barrios, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
No comments:
Post a Comment