Hard at Work

Ever feel like you are watch­ing over things that don’t mat­ter? Who is it that does that watch­ing? The thin line between per­sonal may­hem, utter apa­thy or extreme vio­lence is that we don’t know the time of our dying. If we did, of course, we, or I will speak for me since you prob­a­bly would have loftier ideals – I would light up a cig­a­rette, rob a bank (non­vi­o­lently – it’s a per­sonal pref­er­ence) and give the money back or away or just light in on fire right there in the bank, run until my knees finally did give out as opposed to the not run­ning I do now in fear of the knees and because of lazi­ness. Just that one piece of info keeps us look­ing over use­less chores and keeps us tidy­ing up cor­ners. Even though we all know it’s com­ing, we do things we would never do if we knew when it’s coming.

Mak­ing din­ner does its lit­tle part to keep body and soul together so I can see doing that. Plus eat­ing feels good which is a good thing to be doing (feel­ing, good) while we wait around to meet the inevitable dead­line, the one we won’t be late for. In the mean­time, I, like mil­lions now and before me, am curi­ous about the thin line of (un)knowing that keeps me doing use­less things, shack­led to some­one else’s beliefs (which they would dis­avow the sec­ond they knew the moment of their own demise, by the way), keeps my head down and my neck bowed star­ing at my fin­gers work­ing to the bone.