I had a strange dream about my great grandmother and my dad. I won’t relate it here, other people’s dreams are non-sensical. I have had weird dreams all week. That is unusual in itself as I usually do not dream or at least remember them if I do. Shrug.
I’m up early this morning. Whatever. You don’t care about that either. In fact, based on my page views, you don’t care about much that I post these days. I suppose the blame falls upon me. Content is my purview. It certainly isn’t your problem.
It is that life has become monotonous. Not in a boring way. I work, I read I watch TV. The small variety is blurred by the utter sameness. Sure, every day is different, but not individually distinctive. I’m not bored. It is just that so little of my current life is remarkable.
I like my job. It has changed, post-pandemic. There are lots of on-line meetings, far less windshield time. Sometimes I miss the nights in new cities, different hotels, the sights along the highways. Then I think there is a lot to be said for being home every night. I have driven over a million miles. I have flown about one thousand flights. I’ve been to a hundred different airports. I’ve spent more nights than I can count in various hotels.
Even that volume became monotonous over time.
Frankly, I am boring. I am not bored, just boring. No wonder my blog is too.
Actually, I have plenty I could rant about. The world has become such a corrupt, messed up place. I have become the quintessential out of step “boomer”. Raging against the idiocy and head scratching millennial world is like Don Quixote and his windmills. For instance, if you fail to see why giving kids puberty-blockers while they still eagerly anticipate Santa on Christmas is wrong, then there is really no conversation possible between us. There is no point in preaching to the choir every day.
Maybe I should tell you about this dream I had about my great grandmother...