It was all worth it. The doing of so much. You hit the floor running and ahead of you lay an infinite list. Of course, you don’t tighten up and die over that. Hell no! You pick two or three gotta-get-dones and you work ‘em for the day. I’m the oldest. I like getting shit done. At the end of the day, I put these big red checks on my to-do list. I take a deep breath and thank my stars for letting me be so damned productive. Imagine the pride you have getting a package in the mail. All the steps…need I elaborate…down to the interaction with the postal clerk’s forced smile. Or the sense you’re slipping through time at the traffic stop and the woman pushing the baby carriage is now fifty feet further down the block and the space-time she consumed in her own life has happened in a blink as your mind turned inward to some other item on the list, like which credit card to use at the appliance store, what route was most efficient and where to park to minimize. You know the routine…and your mind comes back to the traffic light…waiting for the “walk” yellow flashing light to end and you wonder if the order of all this is a kind of tyranny of interlocked forms…and we only see a few frames out of the infinite choices…and you realize, still waiting with the giant SUV breathing on your rear bumper…a tiny woman’s new shoe slipping off the brake pedal…you think this could all be an absurd busy-ness, necessary but finally empty of value…metaphysically…and thank the cosmos the light turns green, and you get to lurch into the intersection driven and flawed by all these quotidian desires!
P.S. (note: It’s Memorial Day: the Post office is closed! Sit still, stay off the roads! RELAX!)