I find it strange that never once in their daily conversations does this all-knowing God suggest basic empathy as a possible course of action.
The booster has been running through my veins for about ten hours. I cannot mentally move things, change things, or create things. I have to still do work. What a sham.
“We live in a world of rice made from chickpeas. The sky is the limit.”
The woman eyes my items and tells me that she’s worried about how available CBD oil is now. “I mean, what’s next?”
I am using a frozen pizza to ice my knee. I know I shouldn’t answer a fool according to their folly, but hanger gets the best of me. “Hopefully pain relief and dinner,” I answer.
I once asked my dad why he backed into parking spots when we went to church. He kept his eyes forward as we walked from the back of the parking lot to the church’s front door. “Quicker exit,” he said, and I think about this as I pull into the parking lot at work and watch the side mirrors as I back myself into a corner spot.
“Let me be alone with my bad attitude.”
“Did that sound dumb when you said it?”
“Let’s start by going around and saying our names and an uninteresting but amusingly presented fact about ourselves.”
If I take a few wrong turns, I could end up in Canada instead of at work.
Getting through the morning took a full day’s worth of effort.