Hell if I know

sunrise6

Hello, God.  I’m back for round 5

Are you sure it’s round 5?

Hell if I know.  It’s round something.  It feels like I’m on the losing end of a boxing match.

You’re feeling a bit beat-up by last night’s dream.

It didn’t help that something chose to die outside my window.  It’s stinking up the place.  I had to take the fan out that insisted on blowing death my way and now I’m wearing my winter fleece.  So much for global warming.

Yes, I know. It’s 69 outside.  A bit cold for Florida in July.

Why was I dreaming that my husband and I were talking in a room without walls?  Why did it have several super clean beds and why were we laying there talking as we waited for the end of the world?

You don’t want to know why your spirit guide was trying to tell you that roaches are just as good as you, or the reason he kept asking why you think you should live and they should not?

I want to know why a room without walls, aka nothing but a foundation, looked so clean.

That’s all you noticed?

That, and the brand new black and white carpet with the amazing design.  It was beautiful.  Nothing stays that clean when you have 4 dogs.

You want answers.  I give you answers.  All you notice is how clean, how odd, how much you’d like to have that carpet if only you had a maid…

No.  I notice the stink coming through my window, too.  What was the purpose of that dream?

I gave you a brain, you’ve ruined the oceans, you build power plants that boil water with nuclear energy and wonder why I think that roaches have as much right to exist as you?

I’m also wondering why I’m relegated to ginger ale for breakfast.

Bad choices.

That’s it?  I ask for enlightenment and your answer is “bad choices?”

Do you want a list of everything you’ve killed, starting with spiders, roaches and the herds of cattle you’ve eaten not to mention the number of chickens that met their demise so you could have the chicken salad that’s upsetting your stomach?

There’s celery in that chicken salad.  What about the plants?

Some things are meant to be eaten.

Why am I vilified for doing the same thing as a cat, dog, leopard or wolf?

Because you should know better! Predators kill to eat. You drill oil in the Amazon, poison it with petroleum waste…

I didn’t do that!

Every time you drive to town and back, you feed the predator with profits that destroy a habitat. 

Why can’t I be like other people, totally oblivious to anything but my perceived superiority?

Knowledge is like any other gift. If I gave you a stove and you burned yourself with it, whose fault is that?

You know that I never read the instructions.

Well?

It’s my fault *sigh*.

Don’t you have any other speed than, “I’m sublime” and “I’m slime?”

Yes.   I was a mime for a while but the laryngitis cleared up.

Light an odor eliminator candle, go back to bed, stop looking at dream carpet and listen to the guide.

Thanks.

For what?

Giving me the gift of writing.

Finally, appreciation for your conduit to enlightenment.  Stop looking at the word count!