Smashing the Balls of Responsibility

I’m not the kind of person who accidentally drops the ball when things get a little tense. I choose the ball that means the least to me and I throw it furiously at the wall, delighting in the sound it makes as it shatters into a million pieces.

Hahaha! SMASH! That’s what you get, ball! Stop being a distraction from more important things!

The ball I’ve already chosen, the one reduced to dust in the corner over there? That one is my interest and personal involvement in politics. I can’t keep up with what’s going on in this country any more than I can keep up with professional sports teams. If the hometown heroes win something significant, I’ll say a Yay! and high-five whoever gives a damn. If the team of Cheetos in the White House fails spectacularly in their latest evil-doing, same deal. But otherwise, I’m out.  … Except voting. I always vote.

The next ball is going to be Camp NaNoWriMo but I don’t think I’ll be celebrating that one. Still, of the many planets converging in my universe, that one is BY FAR the least consequential.

Sorry Cabinmates. I’ll miss the time we could have spent bonding.

broken-glass-globe-4056203

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