There's a hole in the bucket of my contentment.

Boom.

Did you hear it? Did you, from the far-off spaces you inhabit, hear the sound of my head literally shooting off the body, like a Mercury rocket heading for the once-calm reaches of outer space?

Boom.

I didn't even get the warning Ka. I just got the freakin' Boom.

I missed the Ka.

It's funny when shit hits the fan; you would expect that it would go EVERYWHERE. But it doesn't. It's aim is true, it's course unwavering.

Most of you know what I do earn the bread that feeds the body that stores the soul that lives in the house that Jack built. And I can tell you that between the two day storm that dumped between 14-24 inches of snow on the beloved Northern State, and an idiot from Nigeria who wanted to use another plane like a lawn dart, and a boss who would fit in well in the Federated States of Micronesia, because of his micromanaging, I have had just......about....enough.

And when I got to the mental end of "just......about....enough..."

Boom. Without the Ka.

A little hope as I go into the New Year.......

I hope the 3rd degree burns the idiot from Nigeria has on his d**k are painful and, if there's a just Allah in Heaven, it falls off while the nurses point and laugh. I say that not out of racial or religious intolerance; it's just that his little stunt opened up a whole can off whoop ass on my weekend. And thank you to the passengers and crew that saved the airplane.

That my snow blower continues to run like a champ, but I don't have to use it four times a day like I did on Christmas.

And that I don't go into a sarcastic rant to my boss, who has always treated me with respect and kindness, and that I know is a good man that wants all the same things I want. But I swear to GOD if he comes into the office and requests to peruse my notes, I will attempt to lure him to the window.

And now, the Boom recedes to a faint echo on the horizon, and life is restored to its former glory.

"Glory" being a relative term. Like "Fine." And "Level."