Days of my Life #33

Hi. I’m back. I’ve been away on my dream vacation, where, You are asking? In my dreams, of course. Several days ago I checked out of the hum drum of my “pandemic pandemonium is this really my reality”? And checked into “dream a little dream of me as my formerly adorable svelte thirty or forty something self gallivanting around with a handsome, yet rugged, sensitive but strong, definitely not gay lover”. We hit the beaches, the mountains, my castle in the south of France, his keep in the flowing hills of Och wira wira near the cliffs of some Moor of this, baby. We avoided the big cities because why go there? It was three glorious days of sex, sex and more sex plus delicious food and gut-busting laughter. A holiday only I could’ve imagined, and boy did I.

Life, in my dreams was exciting, actually downright invigorating and extremely satisfying but unfortunately for me I had to return because I had a cancellation policy that expired at noon today and I could hardly afford the exorbitant emotional fees had I foolishly deigned to be late.

So here I honestly and truly am, sitting with three dogs- two old, one a whipper snapper, at my feet, as I ask you, because I’m expecting you to know, when can I go there again?

Now don’t get me wrong, or do, it’s your choice. My life, compared to many others is pretty damn good, and for this I am eternally grateful. I have a daughter with whom I live, who is probably as smart if not smarter than I, easy to get along with, funny or maybe she just tolerates my humor, and is a master baker (my waistline is proof). My grandson, with whom I also live, keeps me on my toes. And while I am surprisingly quite adept at predicting weather, fashion, and the crazy shit that this administration pulls out of its ass, I cannot ever figure out what the kid is going to do next, thus I am constantly challenged, which is quite good for my age addled brain. All this and we have a big roof over our heads, comfortable beds, food in the fridge and are friendly with our neighbors. No real complaints, or rather nothing worthy of kvetching about.

The metaphoric grass is, however, greener in my dreams…and I wonder why oh why can I get no satisfaction…in reality. But in saying that I totally understand that this is the dilemma of so many people now faced with the simplicity of being home, constantly at home, having zoom sessions with bored compatriots with the only excitement being when Netflix, Hulu or Amazon announces a new movie release or the curbside shopper substitutes triple chocolate extra fattening ice cream for the boring single chocolate keto crap you ordered and you finish it off in one evening, enjoying every fucking calorie, cellulite be damned.

Yes, I’ve been making fun about those of us who are blessed with such limited problems, but the joke stops here, because I’ve been forced to awaken to the understanding we, who are the fortunate ones, have the responsibility to help those of our friends, family, neighbors who can’t even dream of a getaway from the reality of being, sick, or unemployed, or being further indebted, evicted or homeless, or being at risk of being killed by hateful bigots.

It’s time we all woke up to make a better world, and while it might temporarily be easier to check into fantasy village, eventually we’re gonna have to wake up and deal with the real mess before us. As to what you can do…I’ll leave that up to you.

Tune in.

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