I have a lot of things going against me: I’m from Maine; I’m a woman; I’m a Virgo; I’m introverted; I don’t know how to use semicolons effectively. These aspects of my personality result in a few glaring facts — I have no tact, I think too much, I talk a lot, I make too many lists.
Well, excuuuuuse me (Steve Martin) if I see things for how they truly are, then feel compelled to blurt these nuggets of wisdom to anyone within earshot. I can’t help it. Life, death, human existence, string theory, string cheese existence. How do you NOT think about these things?!
Usually I save up all my bone-chilling revelations during the day, only to unleash them onto my poor husband just as he’s drifting off to sleep.
“Hey, honey?” I ask, ignoring the gentle snoring and loud farting. (We’ve been married a long time, I think I’m allowed to let a few rip every now and then.)
“Huh?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.
“There is a theory that the universe is just a big-ass hologram. Our 3D reality is actually stored on a 2D surface. So what we’re experiencing isn’t real at all, just an illusion. Yeah. I believe it. Makes total sense.”
“Okay,” says my husband as he rolls over.
Silence. More farting.
“Hey, honey?” I whisper. “Did you know that some dude, I think it was Elon Musk…but maybe it was Sheldon on the Big Bang Theory…anyway, he said that there is a huge chance we are in a computer simulation, created from the future. Like we’re inside some insane Sims game, living out our pathetic little lives for some advanced civilization, just for the shits and giggles! Maybe we’re only one of millions of other simulations! The universe is just one big video game!”
Silence. I continue to think so intently, my brain leaks out of my ears.
“Dammit, if only I could live in the simulation where I’m Oprah,” I sigh into the dark.
“Okay,” murmurs my husband.
Silence. Soft farting.
“Hey, honey?” I prop myself up on my elbow. “I was talking with Judy who used to work for a big power plant out in Washington State like 40 years ago. She said she knows things, top secret things about all the nuclear waste they’ve buried over the years in the ground! Just massive amounts all over the country. And all these power plants buried this toxic crap in underground tanks that have shelf lives of like 50 years, and pretty soon, all of it will leak into all our water supply! I’m pretty sure it already has! We’re all gonna die a slow radioactive death!”
“Ah well, good night, honey,” I whisper. Then I fall into a deep peaceful sleep and dream I’m riding bareback on a unicorn with Sting.
My husband suffers from insomnia; I have no idea why.
25 thoughts on “Nuclear Bedtime Stories”
After watching Kid Rock give his first speech as a candidate for senate, I complete believe the computer simulation theory.
It’s the only explanation. And every time I see Trump’s face with “President of the United States” written underneath, I think, day-um! This is the worst simulation ever!
Most of this stuff can be overlooked: but your use of semicolons may be a fatal flaw.
All semicolons should die;die;die!
I’m pretty sure this IS a simulation. How else can you account for the 1970’s rerun of Steve Martin?
If this is a simulation, so many things make sense.
Hahaha! Silence. Soft farting. Danny and I have been married a long time too only I’m the one with insomnia.
Is he telling you about the nuclear apocalypse before you go to sleep, too?
Truth! And yes, Hanford’s (laughing at my self because I wrote Hannaford’s- just got back from Maine) buried radioactive waste is running into the Columbia and out to the Pacific, just in time to join the radiation from Japan’s meltdown that is still melting down. Good thing I have friends who do amazing things like transmute radiation. (no shit!)
Good to see you back at it!!
Thanks. I feel like I’m so out of the bloggy loop lately. Sigh.
How was the trip to Maine? We’ve had a glorious summer and it’s still going…next week mid-80s!
Funny you should ask. It was my most recent post. Tons of photos.
Truth be told, because I’m going through a Kundalini awakening right now (I know, you’re asking what’s that?), the speed and intensity of “healing” that is happening in me right now is making life in general very difficult. And part of the trip reunited me with a few family members that I really didn’t want to see right now – next summer would have been better. Long story short, the trip was not relaxing and not fun. (I’m healing stuff from way back). That said, I’m glad it’s behind me now.
Well, I live in Oak Ridge, another Manhattan Project site. Have been here for six years. I know there is mercury in our runoff, that goes into some streams that of course are being studied. As far as radiation, I’m not sure how much $ has been spent so far on cleanup but I know it’s an ongoing effort to make the ground usable for other industries after most of the buildings, including K25 that was at one time the largest building under one continuous roof, have been torn down. They’re trying to save other possibly contaminated buildings,smaller of course and on other sites around town, to use for heritage tourism in the new Manhattan Project National Historical Park. Personally, as one who has become interested in this history since I moved here, I’m planning to visit both the Hanford and Los Alamos sites sometime in the future. To get a bit more of an IRL feel for Oak Ridge, you can check out my post
At least your husband pretends to agree with you between the snores and the farts. Mine just turns his back and mutters something about string cheese theory.
Methinks the string cheese might explain all the excess flatulence. (I cannot believe I just typed that out. Must be all this Nyquil I’m chugging lately)
Such an entertaining read! Almost didn’t want it to end 🙂
Aw, thank you, Diana!
It’s probably that radiated water that wakes me up in the middle of the night. Thanks for the heads up. Just another reason to swill Fanta. Insightful post.
Ooh, I love Fanta. Good stuff.
I can’t decide if weed would help you or make things worse. I’ll ship you a bong and you let me know.
[My best Matthew McConaughey]: “All right, all right, all right….”
Mom was a working girl. Dad’s older sister married a generous dairy farmer who rented us the “second house” on the farm (in all its glory) while the struggle of the new family ensued. Aunt Virgy (yes, Virginia is a real girl’s name) watched over me for a few years and fed me peanut butter sandwiches washed down by raw milk. That’s milk straight from the cow. Those rural urchins out there know exactly what I’m talking about. So, I’m fairly sure that I’m quite immune from nuclear waste or the Ebola virus and will be one of the survivors of the coming de-population. Graying ex-farm kids inoculated by peanut butter and smelly milk.
I HATE SEMICOLONS!!!
you had me at Bareback on a unicorn with Sting ~ HA!
PS my bestie/cousin/best pal since birth is my cousin – Virgo – and my husband is a – Gasp – Virgo. VIRGO ALERT! But I’m a Gemini 🙂 They pull my circus balloons back to earth and I get them to color outside the lines and even consider being late. They aren’t late, but they have admitted to thinking of trying it sometime.
Loved this post ~~ MJ
Seriously entertained now! Thank you!