Make Your Peace. Right Now!

There are those in my life who have wondered if, perhaps, I whine just a little bit too much on the blog. They are among the ones I count as nearest and dearest to me and have permission to speak frankly. The rest of the world should probably tread lightly since I am a little bit fragile and too much frankness will just result in more whining.

Besides, a normal, happy sort of day isn't a funny day. Funny is when you get pepper sprayed in the Convenience Store Where They Call You By Endearments That Should Be Insulting But Are Actually Kind Of Sweet. It would have been more funny if I'd been sprayed directly, but it is still rather amusing to picture The Sheep hacking and coughing this morning when she stopped in for milk because the clerk (she who once lost all control and actually called me, "Honey Bunny," and I just loved it) was unsure of what the little device left in the store was. She hit the button and successfully pepper sprayed the store down nicely. My lungs, which are sensitive on the best of days, reacted with predictable spasms. But I was laughing so darned hard that getting it under control was just about impossible. Her rendition of the events that transpired just before I entered the premises were simply beyond hysterical. See what I mean? Funny!!! Getting pepper sprayed while buying milk is cause for whining and is funny!!!

This is what blogs were made for, if you want my opinion.

Except that, tonight, I have dire and grave news for you all. The high humor and giddy laughter must be set aside for it is The End Of Days and this demands a certain amount of decorum. The signs are all around us and we must look beyond the image of The Sheep inhaling peppery fumes at 6:30 in the morning in order that we might fully appreciate the gravity of the circumstances. At the risk of sounding whiney, I fear that we might be heading for a full-on apocalypse of near biblical proportions.

Let's review the evidence, shall we?

Sign The First: Today's temperatures were in the low 80's with just a touch of humidity. This is not typical for October in Maine. This is a practice run for the rain of fire that is about to fall upon our unprotected heads. Tomorrow is slated for more of the same.

Sign The Second: I lost at Jenga today. I never lose at Jenga. Especially not to a fifth grader who does not have my amazing fine motor skills. If ever there was a sign that it is time to hide under the bed and think of excuses for any bad thing you have ever done, this be it. When that tower came crashing down, I sat there with my poorly chosen block in hand and knew that the forces of evil were nigh. That's right. You heard me. Nigh. That is far worse than, "in the vicinity," or "hovering aimlessly about." This is Nigh. Any sentence that contains the word, "Nigh" is also a portent of sorts.

Sign The Third: This is a big one. Not only did I fix the problem with the Invisibility Shawl, but I have knit successfully since I hid my mistake with a Knit 2 Together. Sure, there is a pretty big boo-boo several rows back that I could say means that all is normal and well. When do I have flawless knitting, after all? But that would just be false hope. The fact that I have knit along without a hitch for twenty or so rows is so outside of the normal progression of things that it, alone, could stand as a sign of impending world catastrophe. Note: The use of the word, "impending" is also something of a hint when pondering whether you should be tidying up your affairs for the End Of Days.

Not convinced? Still thinking that The Sheep is just being overly dramatic or still suffering from the inhalation of pepper spray? Wondering if I've been dipping into the amazing narcotic cough syrup again? Well, you'd be right on the last one, but that is medicinal and, being as we are living through the final countdown, I think I am entitled to a little nip of the codeine. At any rate, here's the thing that will bring you around to my way of thinking. It is a sign so clear that it cannot be misinterpreted by even the most skeptical of viewers.

Sign The Fourth: An eleven year old boy told me today that he was wrong. He then went on to say that I was right. He further stated that he should have just listened to me in the first place. Had he apologized, I would have packed my bags for the coming floods right that very minute.

But he didn't, so I'm revising my End Of Days Countdown to allow us about a week. Use it wisely.

SA