Nothing Extraordinary Happened Today.
Except the two paper-thin sacks in my chest expanded in and out to keep me alive all on their own while I slept.
And a bean that was once discovered half a world away is now a
daily staple that keeps me caffeinated.
And this gorgeous redhead who sleeps in my bed inexplicably loves me, though I do not deserve it.
Oh, and the gas-filled death machine I drove to work didn’t get hit by anyone else’s gas-filled death machine.
Also, I can get any kind of food I want in about 5 minutes.
And this four-valved fleshy lump under my ribs keeps thumping, pushing blood through veins, which allows me to, you know, exist.
And my employer decided to keep paying me.
And nobody around me got shot.
And the magical rectangle in my pocket allows me to
communicate with virtually anyone in the world.
And this strange box of transistors helps me write a
message to anyone who will read it.
And I saw a puppy. It was grinning at me.
And the bone bags I call my brother, mother, and father
remain on this planet.
And I was able to fill up my aforementioned gas-filled death machine with fuel, thanks to my ample bank account.
Oh yeah, and I accessed that bank account with a 85 millimeter
piece of plastic with a magnetic strip on the back.
Also, when I got home (get this), that redhead was
there waiting on me, smiling. My heart melted.
And I’m about to go to bed, in a mattress, with a pillow, without any bombshells, rockets, terrorists, or other threats which plague the hours of my fellow man.
