January 16: I Need a Drink, Poet Laureate, Northern Lights

Ford Prefect is on his way to the pub with Arthur Dent:

He saw the bulldozer driver's union representative approaching and let his head sink back and closed his eyes.  He was trying to marshal his arguments for proving that he did not now constitute a mental health hazard himself.  He was far from certain about this--his mind seemed to be full of noise, horses, smoke, and the stench of blood.  This always happened when he felt miserable and put upon, and he had never been able to explain it to himself.  In a high discussion of which we know nothing  the mighty  Khan bellowed with rage, but Mr. Prosser only trembled slightly and whimpered.  He began to feel little pricks of water behind the eyelids.  Bureaucratic cock-ups, angry men lying in the mud, indecipherable strangers handing out inexplicable humiliations and an unidentified army of horsemen laughing at him in his head--what a day.

What a day.  Ford Prefect knew that it didn't matter a pair of dingo's kidneys whether Arthur's house got knocked down or not now.  

Arthur remained very worried.

"But can we trust him?" he said.

"Myself I'd trust him to the end of the Earth," said Ford.

"Oh yes," said Arthur, "and how far's that?"

"About twelve minutes away," said Ford, "come on, I need a drink."

Mr. Prosser has had quite a day.  Arthur Dent has had quite a day.  Ford Prefect is having quite a day.  I've had an eventful day.  Work.  Teaching.  Getting my laptop fixed.  Finding out that I'm one of the top ten finalists for 2019/2020 Poet Laureate of the Upper Peninsula.  Not sure if I'm going to be in the top five finalists, which would put it to a public vote, but the news was pretty cool.

Now, I'm sitting on my couch, typing this VERY short post.  My daughter just texted me a little while ago:  "Northern lights outside right now."  So I went outside.

It was -4 degrees outside.  The sky was filled with streaks of green light.  Amazing.  An end to quite a day.  

I'm still feeling like crap.  Bad cough.  Tired.  Sore throat.  Sandwiched in all of that, though, are moments of wonder.

Saint Marty is feeling blessed tonight, by friends and family.