I’m sitting here and negative thoughts, midnight black humour, creep back in to my consciousness.
In my dystopian nightmare, funeral homes will offer “End Of Life” Care, including euthanasia. The funeral home would advertise free euthanasia with every “pre-need” cremation or burial package. I know. That’s sick. Really, really sick. Just try and get it out of your head.
I’m trying to get back on track. First Justice Ginsburg dies. Then I watch some “British Hangman”Albert Pierrepoint videos on You Tube. And pretty soon, the macabre had seeped into every pore of my body.
I’ve started an emergency course of Cartoon Therapy. Popeye. Yes. I’m going with the big stuff. Maybe a nap is in order
Later This Afternoon
Rather than the nap. I took my power walk. I saw my neighbours and the dogs. Pekinese, Beagle, Yorkie(?), and, new to the neighbourhood, a French Bulldog. (Yes, they are cute!).
So with the miraculous help of my neighbours and their pets, it’s looking better. I feel the fresh air deep in my lungs, the simple beauty at the cusp of the seasons.
2.4 miles of restorative exercise.