I’m afraid I have some bad news. Today is a sad day. As I left the parking garage, I saw a leaf on the sidewalk, a sad-looking leaf. I asked, “Little leaf, why so sad?” But it did not answer. That’s how sad it was.
I walked to work listening to Hall and Oates on my headphones. Hall and Oates did not put a spring in my step like they usually do. I imagined myself singing karaoke Hall and Oates songs, thinking that a fantasy of me wearing a white pantsuit and holding a microphone with multicolored, sparkling lights behind me would cheer me up. But it didn’t. It just all seemed sad.
I got to work and unwrapped the sandwich I bought at the deli. I was about to take a bite, and saw tomatoes, which have recently been identified as carriers of the Saintpaul bacteria. So I had to throw it out, and instead had a sad lunch of string cheese, nuts, and pineapple juice. I was going to have the pineapple juice with the sandwich anyway, but it was a sadder juice when paired with the substitute solid lunch foods.
The baby crows in the nest outside our office window have flown away over the weekend. I was going to take their picture before they left. Were they fleeing the weekend’s inclement weather that made their tree bend wildly? Did they feel emboldened by their strong, youthful wings and thirst for crow adventure? Did they sense that in the nearby park there were weak, sparsely-plumed sparrow nestlings to be had for the snacking? I’ll never know, and I’ll never see them again.
Today I explained that world was big, but then slowly the world got pushed through an empty toilet paper roll. When it came out the other side, it looked like another empty toilet paper roll. Which made it smaller. And sadder.
