, , , , , ,

Today I went out to water my planters and vegetable boxes and realized I’d walked into the Twilight Zone. The air was still, hot, and orange. There were no children out: no laughter, bicycles, popsicles or water balloons. Everything was much too quiet and lifeless except for the occasional protest of my neighbor’s dog and the distant brakes of a fleeing train. The pea gravel around my boxes had a definite orange tint to it and even my cat was listless. I just knew the end of the world had come and I had been “left behind.”

After a dry winter and a hot dry spring, my state is burning. I live at the southern end of a county that receives winds through a canyon from a county southeast of us. That county is fighting a large fire and I can’t imagine what it is like to live there, because we are receiving their ash and smoke. My DH called on his lunch from where he works at the northern end of our county. He said the sky down here is orange.

I went inside and checked headlines on my computer where I found the distant media cheering the Supreme Court’s ruling for today. They’ve had a banner week. An email from my senator promises he will fight to change that. I mutter, “It’s the least you can do.” I’ve lost faith in politicians.

Other news: financial markets, etc. are equally dismal. I click off.

My DH will be home in three hours. I just have to survive that long.

A lot could happen in three hours though. Missiles could launch. The Yellowstone volcano could erupt. A virus could spread out of control. You know how in the movies the government never tells anyone that a life threatening asteroid is about to strike?

It’s a day that could lead to depression or madness.

I decide that since the world has chosen insanity (as evidenced by headlines), that the least I can do is ignore it. I decide to make a great dinner, put on some lively music and a short skirt. Then greet my DH with a smile when he gets home.

If I’m still here.

If the world were ending tomorrow, how would you spend it?