THE FEAR BASED AGENDA
Yikes. And Make That A Double.
Oh, brother. This does not come as good news. I am afraid of everything. Everything. I had a sneaking suspicion that this was the case, but I was afraid, naturally, to think about it. My concern was this—should I realize that everything was a source of fear there’d be no telling what might happen. So I’ll tell you.
The other morning I woke up. While ordinarily a good thing, I can’t say it did a whole lot for me that day. To begin with, it was 5:23 a.m. and I did not have to be up at 5:23 a.m., the worst thing being it gave me way too much time to think. I tried to stop the train wreck by turning on the television, looking for a marathon of any show involving a crime lab, and hoping not to wake and annoy my husband. What I was sort of hoping was that I would be lulled back to sleep with the comforting words, “We’ve found our murder weapon…” No such luck. I got involved in the story and also managed, during commercial breaks, to stare out the window and wonder why it appeared that the sun was not coming up.
I know that the actual time of the sunrise is published daily and I almost-but-didn’t get out of bed to go look online for the information. It was a strange combination of not wanting to know if the day had come where the sun would not rise and wanting to trust that it would be daylight business as usual. I had no explanation for the utter quiet and lack of panic in the street outside—other than no one else had noticed the situation yet.
Of course, it did not dawn on me (no pun intended) that I could have flipped to any number of news channels to see if there had been some kind of monumental announcement regarding the condition of the sun and, therefore, everyone on planet Earth, as well. No. For some reason, I chose to stay with the flirtatious bickering between criminal investigators and, during commercial breaks, imagine that I was the only person, in Los Angeles and the entire universe, privy to the information that the fucking sun was not going to come up.
