So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...
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(Did you mean "our beds"?)
I hope your meetings went well and you did not have to lay in a bed that was unmade. And peeling potatoes can be very spiritual especially after one peels off part of ones finger. Sometimes pain does that to someone, by making one think if one really needs to be peeling so many potatoes.
Although I think that sign makes so much sense in that anytime one makes a left turn, one shoud make it with great care or it might be your last.
Thanks for playing with us for this weeks Theme Thursday while I know you are so busy.
God bless.
Mrsupole, it's been a shocking few weeks, work-wise.
Roddy, perhaps.