“They” say it’s always darkest before the dawn. This year, though, seems dark side of the moon dark. Darker than the deepest corner of a walk-in closet dark. Darker than a stormy midnight when the power is out and there is nobody around.
It is not all good. It is not all bad. I’m talking about this day, this week, this year, this life we share, like it or not.
Few among us would say we’ve been having the time of our lives at this particular time in history. But it’s the time we’ve been given — the only one. Isn’t it time we made the best of it? Where has expert timing taken care of you, even now, especially now?
I miss Max. There is zero chance that I’m the only one who feels this way. (Editor’s note: Accurate. — A.H.)
It is my solemn privilege to remind you today that you are the human equivalent of 2,000 chocolate bars. I hope you already knew that.
You’ve done it; I’ve done it; I strongly suspect we will both do it again. I’m talking about talking trash about 2020. I think we might have overdone it just a touch.
It’s in the jokes-in-your-head that no one else hears. (“This new loofah just might be the LOOF OF MY LIFE!”) It’s in the perfect hair days seen only by the Amazon delivery man. (“Lookin’ spiffy, Ma’am.”) But is happiness unshared ergo unreal?
If you aren’t familiar with J.J. Abrams and Jordan Peele (in alphabetical order to be fair), now is a good time to get up to speed. G’head…I’ll wait.
Oh kittens. It is my sweet privilege to bring you a great many great and glorious things on this blog. But what you are about to experience is surely a peak Felis Catus moment.