Boil and Burn

Do you ever get the feeling that the Universe, in its infinite wisdom, is intentionally keeping information from the likes of us?

I pondered this today as I watched the wind carry off with itself my remaining sense of time and space.

In all fairness, Id not had much to begin with.

Dark matter continues to elude me. I rather enjoy the extensive potential for answers such uncertainty provides. With no positive answer, after all, are not the possibilities limitless?

My mother, in her parental insistence, asks relentlessly what my plans for the future are.

Plans? Future?

I don't even have plans for the present.

After more than two decades, I'm baffled she still thinks to ask. Oh, but she does. Quite often. And my answer never satisfies her.

I think, then, she must keep asking in hopes that my shrug will turn into a well formulated, clearly defined, and bullet-pointed arrangement for the map of my life.

But Ive never been very good at navigation.

Ah well, it is not really the destination that calls to me anyhow. And as Ive no clear destination in mind, this is quite fortunate.

I fantasize of fitting my existence in a backpack. What do I really need, anyhow, but my sunscreen and a few outfits? At this point, I could do even without my shoes. Well, most of them. Id need at least one pair of heels. Brooklyn Love, or Shoes of Doom? Ive yet to decide.

My life a constant battle with the accumulation of useless possessions.

My heart is a vagrant.

In the next room, my step father battles with a stapler. It pleases me to know I am not alone in my arguments with inanimate objects. I suspect, however, that in this house I'm still alone in being argued back by them.

Those remotes are truly sassy, with an array of buttons which never seem to do the same thing twice.

But then, they are nothing compared to the toasters.