“My life is full of terrible misfortunes most of which never happened.”
Michel de Montaigne (French Renaissance Writer)
So, here’s a typical Saturday in the McCanta house. Hubby gets up early (careful not to waken the the sleeping She-Bear), feeds the dogs without making a sound, dresses silently, then hits the golf course by 6:30 a.m. Home by 10:30. What a guy. What an industrious, wonderful silent guy!
She-Bear, however, hibernates until her bladder begins to burst, causing her once petite and widely-admired butt to expand several sizes overnight. Okay, Okay … I’m UP. Ohhhh, but there’s no coffee anymore. Okay, so tell me again the use in living without one’s coffee? Without Lattes? Without Carmel Thingy-Whackies with drizzled stuff on top of its mound of perfect whipped cream?
Youngest Daughter calls with news she’s sold her car. Can I drive her around tomorrow to find a new one? Sure. I love dealership lots and drooling salesmen. It’s the middle of June in Phoenix. Temperature’s expected to be 111 degrees tomorrow. All that shimmering asphalt. Swell. Did I mention tomorrow is Father’s Day?
Scarlett the Retriever spends the day swimming in the pool, with Wilson the Labradoodle circling the edge, barking frantically. Apparently he disapproves of swimming.
Hubby and She-Bear spend the day fidgeting with the air conditioning thermostat. He’s too Cold. She’s too hot. Still lookin’ for just right. Tomorrow will be another story. Above 108 degrees, all bets are off on air conditioning and thermostats. This ain’t gonna be no three-dog night, I can guarantee that!
Hubby and She-Bear follow one another around the house flipping ceiling fans on and off. Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold.
Then I remember the people through the central part of our country who’ve been flooded and tornadoed out of everything. They have no air conditioners to control. They have no fans to fuss over.
I cried today with a woman on the news from Indiana who lost everything. EVERYTHING. She said they only had enough time to grab a change of clothes before their house was flooded. A change of clothes. That’s all she has for her family. A change of clothes. Gosh, that could have been any woman. Any wife. Any mother.
She’s no longer able to be a She-Bear, lounging until the crack of 7:30 am. She doesn’t even have a BED!!!
I think Mssr. Montaigne was very incorrect. Some terrible misfortunes do happen … to real people, to women who would give anything to spend a few extra minutes in bed, to wake to swimming dogs and thermostat wars. To spend a typical Saturday in love with their husbands, to dust their furniture rather than mourn its loss.
I think we should pray for these folks (if we should happen to do prayers) … or hold good thoughts for them … or send them our silly rebate checks … or SOMETHING, damnit!