Just In The Prick Of Time

In a thrilling induction into the near future a letter was opened today (Saturday) reading I, we, have 60 days to vacate the premises as the house is being sold. Likely to someone with a bulldozer or wrecking ball.

I'd rather four months more in this shaky shitheap, but two it is, apparently. The panic inducing letter is a cousin of other correspondence: debt collectors, medical results, confirmation of unnecessary death in war, subpoenas. Douglas Adams wrote nothing travels faster than bad news. I do wish it continued to travel though, whizzing past me, but it hits home and stops there. It makes a hole in the wall and a cyclone is coming and robbers too, and sexual predators and brimstone. And, in breaking news, gravitational waves. We will look back in time.

_______________________ this was an 'edit' from a 2016 post. It's unchanged except for when it was published.