I am still thinking about the idea of doing nothing as I rush madly about. I thought today, before sitting down to write, I'd do a few knee bends. Rather, I wanted to see if my knees still bend . . .
Tis the season for doing too much. I was listening to the radio, and there was this long story about a man who, in haste, went up on the roof to fix his 900th Xmas tree decoration and fell onto the pavement, shattering his pelvis. Who needs 900 decorations? The poor guy went on to talk about his obsession with decorating--how even after his pelvis was shattered, he had to keep decorating. I imagined how it happened . . . him up on his roof for hours, arranging his blow-up Santas and Snoopies and candy canes, all of them blowing wildly about until one of them turned and bopped him off his ladder . . .
It happens. I think so anyhow. Our obsessions, whatever they are, one day turn on us.