48F and wet. A dreary end for a dreary year.
Last day of the year. We no longer go out, too many amateurs on the road, and too many kids at home…. I won’t be able to sleep until I see that we got through another Times Square Ball Drop without an attack. It’s just the way I’m wired.
To my mind, that’s the biggest target in the US. Much more visible than a building or concert. No way it can be adequately secured. Every year I’m grateful when it’s over. This year, all it would take is a dozen people infecting revelers who go home to infect others… and you have The Night When Everything Changed ™.
Enough gloom for this morning.
I was dreaming about using reanimated dead people as fighter pilots, and attack helicopter pilots and that was fine. But when I thought of using them as restaurant workers, my sleeping brain went “That’s not right!” Strange way to wake up, and it set my mood.
But the normal rhythms of life call, breakfast needs cooking, wife and kids need feeding. Those are the things that tie us here, don’t let them pass unnoticed.