Doomed
No, not by yesterday's post and John's reasoned critique of my lazy arguments. Other things doom me today.
I was sitting at my desk this afternoon, happily typing descriptions of murder and mutilation in the name of entertainment, when my neighbour (whom you may recall leaves his lights on all night) returned from a shopping trip. Nothing much unusual about that, except that he doesn't seem to be working at the moment.
It was only when he proceeded to unload the car that I realised the true nature of my fate. Christmas is upon us soon, and whilst his two girls were still away at school, my neighbour had obviously decided to get their presents sorted out. The sight of one of them, laid out on the tarmac outside the gate ready to be brought indoors and wrapped, filled me with gloom and dropped me into a slough of despond.
For it was an electric guitar.
Bad enough the battery-powered Bontempi. And I've heard enough recorders being abused to qualify for an early release from Hell when I finally get there.* This, though, is taking things to a new level.
Trying not to show more than idle curiosity, I asked my neighbour who the guitar was for. He replied that it was for the eldest of the two, who must be in her early teens now. Apparently she's been begging for a guitar all year, but it's my neighbour's guess that she'll be bored of it within a month, when she realises that it requires practice and dedication to master.
But that won't be the end of it. Oh no. It will be there, in her room, for her to pick up and tunelessly strum at full volume whenever she's annoyed with her sister, or parents, or the world at large.
This is a teenager, remember.
I'm doomed.
* unless, of course, I am already there.
I was sitting at my desk this afternoon, happily typing descriptions of murder and mutilation in the name of entertainment, when my neighbour (whom you may recall leaves his lights on all night) returned from a shopping trip. Nothing much unusual about that, except that he doesn't seem to be working at the moment.
It was only when he proceeded to unload the car that I realised the true nature of my fate. Christmas is upon us soon, and whilst his two girls were still away at school, my neighbour had obviously decided to get their presents sorted out. The sight of one of them, laid out on the tarmac outside the gate ready to be brought indoors and wrapped, filled me with gloom and dropped me into a slough of despond.
For it was an electric guitar.
Bad enough the battery-powered Bontempi. And I've heard enough recorders being abused to qualify for an early release from Hell when I finally get there.* This, though, is taking things to a new level.
Trying not to show more than idle curiosity, I asked my neighbour who the guitar was for. He replied that it was for the eldest of the two, who must be in her early teens now. Apparently she's been begging for a guitar all year, but it's my neighbour's guess that she'll be bored of it within a month, when she realises that it requires practice and dedication to master.
But that won't be the end of it. Oh no. It will be there, in her room, for her to pick up and tunelessly strum at full volume whenever she's annoyed with her sister, or parents, or the world at large.
This is a teenager, remember.
I'm doomed.
* unless, of course, I am already there.
Comments
And I think that what's more important about your posts is that you're open to taking more information and adjusting your thinking. Environmental issues are complex....