Today I fell into a fog.  The news of events in our nation curdled any food that I managed to swallow.  I tackled the initial deployment of my evaporative cooler and managed to over-fill it, causing water to seep from its seams and flow across my house.  True enough, three tries got me to a customer service supervisor who diligently diagnosed and solved the problem.  But by that time, I had heard the cries of children torn from their parents and could not redeem this Tuesday.

Accordingly, I did what any red-blooded American would do under same or similar circumstances.  I watched a movie.  Not just any movie: The Revolt of Mother. the 1988 gem which I had watched upon its first release.  I figured it would be on YouTube by now.

I plugged my tablet into its charger and curled on my daybed with my feet propped on the cedar chest.  I had shoved the water-soaked towel in the laundry machine and left the day’s dishes in the sink.  With the setting sun, the house cooled of its own accord.  I stilled the machine and flicked the switch on the overhead fan before collapsing and letting myself fall into the film.  I took a certain satisfaction from Amy Madigan‘s performance thirty years ago, and felt that warmth return this evening.  With all the evil and tribulation about which I could complain, I’m happy to have had a sweet piece of acting and a fine plot to distract me.

Midnight draws near.  I’m thinking of the dust in my bathroom sink and the rubble accumulated in my car.  I let myself flounder today.  But I’m cutting myself a little slack.  Not every day needs to be conquered.  Some can merely be survived.

It’s the nineteenth day of the fifty-fourth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.



“Remember Juneteenth”



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