Granted, the harsh effects of daylight saving time last months rather than years, but we (meaning I) still resent the shorter days and diminished sunlight. Yet we (meaning you) quietly acquiesce. We simply put our heads down and muscle through the dispiriting circumstances with stoic forbearance, knowing it will end and life will carry on. It isn’t gladsome, it’s reality. And we’re all in the same boat.
Let’s apply similar fortitude to the election, okay? We’re apprehensive, of course, practically in a cold sweat over the outcome, but this is America. We’ll be fine. We persevered through the Civil War, through Nixon and Warren G. Harding, Joseph McCarthy and J. Edgar Hoover. And let’s not forget the dark days of Prohibition, the Depression, bell bottoms, and mullets. They’re history, we’re not.
So, chin up, we’ll get through this nightmare, too. It’s one election, after all, a hiccup in the grand scheme of things. Now, let’s join hands and sing. Ready? (cough, cough, ahem)
‘The sun’ll come out tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow
There’ll be sun
Just thinkin’ about tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow
‘Til there’s none
When I’m stuck with a day that’s gray and lonely
I just stick up my chin and say,
The sun’ll come out tomorrow
So you gotta hang on
‘Til tomorrow, come what may
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow
You’re always a day awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay
Yeah, I know, too schmaltzy. But it was the best I could do considering I’m worn to a frazzle by the damn move. Do me a favor: if I mention moving again, have me committed. PDQ.
copyright © 2016 the whirly girl