History is the story of human events and cycles. Let's face it: the remarkable events of history are mainly associated with wars and other deadly catastrophes. I cannot remember reading anything in my history books about nice people living peacefully together, helping each other. Oh yes, there were stories of missionaries and such, who braved the tortuous conditions of pestilence and plague to help others - if they would agree to be converted. I do not think the work of missionaries is righteous, so much as self-serving. Possibly, even malevolent.
Anyhow, tomorrow is the anniversary of the historic Day of Infamy (Dec 7, 1941) the attack on Pearl Harbor, which gave the author James Jones a writing career. Every book he wrote (eg, From Here to Eternity, and other titles which I cannot remember.) were based on events of that day, at that Island Paradise turned into a graveyard for the American fleet. I was born a few months after that infamous day, and have dedicated my life to staying away from Hawaii. So far, I have been quite successful.
Work has become a hellhole. Every day at the crack of dawn (10am) I drag my tired ass into the office to grind out mindless queries on the access database. I need to restructure the tables and rewrite every bleeping report.
Writing new procedures. Making them into a well-oiled information machine. I am a data quality missionary in the jungles of the Sargasso Sea. I work for 3 or 4 hours straight, taking short breaks for biological necessities.
When I get back home, it is dark. No one has cooked dinner. The cats are annoyed. My wife is righteously tired from her own workday, which began at 8am. She is watching Dr. Phil on TV, wondering why I have not planned for the evening meal . She is ready to confront me with her anger and disappointment. But I quickly dial the phone to arrange for a nutritious meal to be delivered piping hot, with extra sauce.
Tomorrow, we will run the same tedious program, and on, and on. Until we die. Or, win the lottery!
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