The World of Dew

It’s been pouring down rain for the past 48 hours. Which is good because you don’t have to shovel rain, and the Hudson Valley is way behind on precipitation totals for the year, but bad because I can’t get out to exercise, which means my sleep habits are erratic, and all I want to do is eat Belgian chocolates and binge-watch strange Black Swan-ish TV dreck like Flesh and Bone.

Rand Paul did very well in last night’s Elephant Debates. Rand Paul is actually my second-favorite POTUS candidate. Apparently, he politely rejected the Koch Brothers’ generous offer to buy the Presidency on his behalf, which is why his candidacy has made barely a ripple in the great reflecting pond of 24/7 media coverage.

I’m way behind on both revenue-generating goals and NaNoWri word counts.

I’m thinking a lot about those infinite galaxies in which our tiny world – the one on which I am the merest fleck – is but a negligible speck. This is the great paradox, of course. Clearly, I’m the most important consciousness in the universe since it is my sentient intelligence that’s connecting all the dots. And yet I am a fleck! Discuss.

The world of dew is the world of dew.
And yet.
And yet…