Can We Have a Little Order Here?

Chaos is a friend of mine. Or so I tell myself. It certainly seems to follow me around like a hungry lost puppy. According to the scientists, chaos is actually hard wired into the universe. I’m not kidding. They say even the laws of physics seem to be evolving as the universe expands. Who knows, millions of years from now we may do away with gravity and float around. 

I stand here in my underwear as I strain to see the water level on my Keurig. My bare feet on the cool tile is my wake up call. Caffeine helps too. Now, there’s a reliable chemical. I’m not sure about the Centrum Silver, flax seeds and ginger root though. CNN is speaking of the unspeakable in a low tone. I dare not bring it to full, normal volume. 

I don’t walk in front of the TV since the camera is always on. The hell with it- I stumble over to the TV and defiantly give the internet overlords the third finger salute. I know, I desperately need a shave. Let them see me in all my glory- my slight pot belly, hair trying to escape in different directions, eyes squinting since I left my glasses in the bedroom, and slightly bowed legs that wobble at times. That will teach them to spy on me. Horrifying. Off to the bathroom.

Who is that man in the mirror? He’s losing his hair, his muscle tone, his trim body, his youthful skin tone, and his mind. What’s left? No wonder I go to pains to avoid greeting him every morning. Wait. Why do I have more hair on my left eyebrow than my right? And how come my left sideburn grows down and my right sideburn grows sideways?. Those eyelids look weary. They’ve seen too much of the world. Later, clean shaven and freshly showered, I suck in my gut and dare to take another look. It’s better now, especially with the foggy glass blurring a few imperfections. I try again to face the day. Maybe there’s some good news breaking out in the past hour.

No luck. It must be hard to pick the lead story for the news. Should we go with hostage massacre? Mass shooting at a kindergarten? Iranian nuclear weapons testing? The latest news on our ex-President’s four felony trials, two civil trials, and several lawsuits for damages? Or the current president’s difficulty mastering stairs? North Korea dropping “surrender or else” leaflets on the White House? The imminent melting of Antarctica? the discovery of a new black hole nearby that may make all this distress disappear for good?- Or Coke releasing its new, improved, return to the original Coke- with real cocaine. Actually, that last item might be the way to go. 

I try not to acknowledge chaos. Now, if chaos brought us candy falling from the sky, endless loops of the Three Stooges, cute puppies that know how to use the toilet, or a breakthrough in medicine that cures hair loss and provides endless erections- I would greet chaos with open arms. But as far as I can tell- chaos only brings trouble. So I will stick with my own personal plan for living- order and routine. 

The toaster, coaster and roaster are all in their proper places. The car keys are in the tray. The wallet is on the left corner of the bureau and my shoes are exactly 18 inches from the bed and 12 inches from the side table with the lamp exactly in the center. Yes, the world is now safe with everything in its place. 

After driving my usual route, parking in my usual spot, pouring my usual coffee and doing my usual paperwork- the return home began. Unfortunately it took an additional two hours to make the journey home due to several streets being blocked by a gang shooting, a water main break that flooded another block and a protest parade that shut down the expressway. 

Finally, I sought the security of sweet sleep after my usual glass of Chardonnay. The glow from the street light dimmed as my eyelids shut. Chaos makes night calls it seems. I was chased down an alley by giant rats the size of a pony. I ran into a building with the Joker laughing as he pulled a lever and I plunged into a dark dungeon. The only sign of life was Wolf Blitzer screaming the latest Breaking News. One of the walls opened up and I was confronted by Big Bird who began pecking me to death while singing the alphabet. 

Sweating profusely from my run and near death, I headed for the living room and tuned in for my usual “Little Rascals”.  Darla was cheering on Spanky as he was racing down a hill in a soap box that really was a soap box- with wheels. Heart rate and blood pressure restored, I consider returning to Dreamland.

Chaos is my friend. Or so I tell myself.