"Yes," declared Deep Thought, "I said I'd have to think about it, didn't I? And it occurs to me that running a program like this is bound to create an enormous amount of popular publicity for the whole area of philosophy in general. Everyone's going to have their own theories about what answer I'm eventually going to come up with, and who better to capitalize on that media market than you yourselves? So long as you can keep disagreeing with each other violently enough and maligning each other in the popular press, and so long as you have clever agents, you can keep yourselves on the gravy train for life. How does that sound?"
The two philosophers gaped at him.
"Bloody hell," said Majikthise, "now that is what I call thinking. Here, Vroomfondel, why do we never think of things like that?"
"Dunno," said Vroomfondel in an awed whisper; "think our brains must be too highly trained, Majikthise."
So saying, they turned on their heels and walked out of the door and into a life-style beyond their wildest dreams.
I really don't have a whole lot of time or energy tonight for deep thought. I certainly don't have seven and a half million years. Plus, my thoughts will never put me on the gravy train for the rest of my life. They probably won't even buy me an order of French fries from McDonald's.
I think my big problem right now is that I'm trying to control circumstances over which I have no control. My wife, at the moment, is in a hypomanic state. For those of you not familiar with that term, here is the definition: "a hypomanic episode [includes], over the course of at least four days, elevated mood plus three of the following symptoms OR irritable mood plus four of the following symptoms: pressured speech, inflated self-esteem or grandiosity, decreased need for sleep."
I, myself, don't sleep much when my wife is rattling around the house at three o'clock in the morning or jumping in a car to go for a midnight drive. If you haven't noticed, I'm kind of a worrier. I want to help fix her situation, but I can't. That's makes me feel quite alone and helpless. I can suggest to my wife that she take her sleeping pills and go to bed, but she rightfully resents when I do this. She feels like I'm treating her like a child, which is never my intention.
Last night, I got a total of about two hours of sleep. I'm kind of exhausted. I'm hoping that tonight will be different.
I love my wife, and I only want what's best for her. Unfortunately, her bipolar doesn't always make that an easy process. At times, I simply have to step back and let God take over. That's where I am this evening.
Saint Marty is ready for a long winter's nap, in the middle of July.
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