This is Almost Funny

Something: A thing not definitely known, understood, or identified; some undetermined thing.

Something or another will go wrong today. Some one who is out to get me will break through my defenses, stout as they are. I hope that when the ramparts are breached the defeat is not centered around a thing, an object, a piece of stuff. Man, I have a whole house packed with stuff. I have a couple of cars -- big pieces of stuff -- in a garage with more stuff in it.

I don't think I care about too many of these things any more, unless one of them breaks or is damaged, or someone takes one of them without my permission, or I see something new that I want. I tire of things so quickly. I put them in a box and down to the basement they go. I move them from house to house, secure in their little caskets. I pull them out from time to time and peer at them curiously. I can't always remember what some of these things are even used for.

Life is not about stuff. Nobody is going to peer into my grave, look at my ravaged corpse and say: "Wow, he had a great car." People remember acts not things.

Apparently god doesn't think that I'm absorbing this information. He has been dispatching his agents to slightly mar my things lately. The city is replacing the gas lines which run under the street in front of my house. Today I watched a man maneuver a backhoe up a hill and into my front yard. I recently hired someone to plant ivy on this hill. It wasn't a fair fight. Ivy is a tough plant but not that tough.

I had to laugh.