When I wonder
Every once in a while, I have to stop and wonder. Why? Not “why do I wonder”, just to be clear.
When I see those presentations on the news, offering to let me taste special tidbits by renowned chefs, why do I wonder if the stuff tastes OK? I mean, although I sometimes manage to make stuff I don’t like (in retrospect), a chef would never do that. Right? Things involving smoked sturgeon and oddball pickles on a bizarre biscuit; how could I go wrong?
When the washing machine tells me that there are 27 minutes remaining on my cycle, and then there are still 14 minutes left, almost an hour later… should I wonder if time has entered another dimension downstairs? Eventually the noise will cease (and a bell will ring), so I don’t have to stay watchful and alert. No need to fear my clothes will still be wet, tomorrow.
When I watch Canadian Pickers, should I be readying myself for a summer spent wandering through antique emporiums and other treasure troves? Do I need an anvil, or an anchor, or another article to anger others in the household? Asking the question answers it. No, I don’t. I’ll watch the program and let that serve as a lesson in what happens when the basement overflows.
And, finally… is my need to wonder a sign of my own membership in humanity? Does the dog question where the next meal will come from, or does he simply hunger, all the time? As I get older, will this all be made perfectly clear?
Forecast winds in Wreck House, tomorrow: 180 kph. Forecast snow on the Island: up to 50 cm. Forecast here: business as usual.
