“It always comes down to two choices; Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

Stephen King in Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption

Ah Monday. Glorious Monday.

If you can’t tell that sentence is dripping with sarcasm, read it again.

It’s that Monday when you have a blog post ready the night before but you think that it’s just perhaps too snarky. So, since the insomnia already had you up at 6:00 on Sunday morning, you go to bed early because 1) you’re finally sleepy, and 2) you can fix the post in the morning if you’re up by 7:00.

Then you’re wide awake at 3:00 a.m.

You hold off on going down for coffee until 6:00 because your foot on the top of the stairs immediately activates the plumbing system in the dogs.

The dogs by the way who have no problems with insomnia and can stay in the same place for days as long as no humans are moving or within range of their food dishes.

Then there’s the cat. The cat is just Monday in feline form.

Of course, 6:00 is more than enough time to take the dogs out, get coffee, and fix the blog.

Until the coffee pot explodes.

Well it didn’t actually explode as much as it clogged, but the end result was much the same

I had the choice of chewing my coffee grounds or making another pot.

I cleaned up the mess and made another pot. I mean, after all, I’ll accept crunch in my peanut butter, but not

Available at Mugshots
(click the pic)

my coffee.

And so I finally get back to the original intent of this post, which as been brewing…I see what I did there…since about Thursday.

In spite of my ramblings of last week about all the things that I haven’t been getting done, and perhaps an assessment of the things that are important, as I write this, I feel the need to get busy.

I mean, I’ve had enough haven’t you?

You’ve seen the memes.

A year ago we shut down everything because we were afraid of dying.

What happened instead is that we lost a year because we were afraid of living.

How did a generation raised on fighting dysentery on The Oregon Trail become afraid of the grocery store?

Don’t @ me Karen.

And that’s where I cut off the rest of the snark. At least for now.

I mean, I could have continued with the movie themes and said “I’m tired, boss,” but then I’d have to admit that I’ve never actually seen The Green Mile.

That’s where I am. I’m tired.

I’m tired of missing all the things we’ve had to give up. I’ve written about that before.

Heck, we’ve all written about it or at least talked about it.

I’m ready to get back to life.

That’s it.

I don’t think there’s anything else to be said. I’m ready.

Let’s do this. Let’s open up. Carefully.

But get busy living.

Hopefully, will be over is sooner rather than later.

I for one am ready to get back out there.

Get the vaccine when you can. Wear your mask where you have to. Wash your hands. Social distance.

But when this is over, let’s remember the words of Auntie Mame.

“Life is a banquet and most poor bastards are starving to death!”

Bon Appétit.

Good luck with your coffee.




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Now may the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

Hebrews 13:20-21

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