The black hole in your truck
Well, if this post is running, the world didn’t end today. I wasn’t all that convinced it was going to happen anyway. The Mayan people were clearly aliens, and I have it on good authority that aliens have an extraordinary sense of humor. They’ve been watching us from their front-row spaceships, laughing their fool heads off at people running around stocking up on water. (“Watch the humans! They think having water and guns will save them from the Death Star! Ha!”)
The planetary alignment and end of Earth is a bunch of piffle, but there’s definitely a black hole in our truck.
Every vehicle has one. You know how it goes, you drop something, hear it hit the floor, and when you go to look for it, it’s gone. Forever. The black hole in our truck eats lighters and phone cases. We throw change into to it every once in a while to please the black hole gods so they don’t decide to devour the entire truck. I lost a t-shirt and some underwear to it last week, and have had thoughts of throwing a chicken into it for a proper sacrifice.
If the world ended today, I’d be OK with it. We’ve had a good run, done a lot of things and seen a lot of places. I’d be both sad and relieved for our children, sad because they’re young and haven’t seen and done all they can, but relieved because life gets hard sometimes and I never want them to suffer. I’ve decided to take the time I would have spent worrying about being annihilated by a spaceball to be thankful for what we have. I’m also trying to figure out a way to drop our tax documents into the black hole so they will never be seen or heard from again. May as well use the damn thing for some good.