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  • "Sometimes you're the bug," I said while stopped at the traffic light. Not that I am crazy about the bug vs. windshield analogy but my tired brain couldn't conjure up anything better to reason out the malaise pervading my life. Or shall I call it existence?

    See, when it's hard - just hard - to be you, the concept of life, typically an exciting prospect - (a new day- a new adventure - a new idea- a new opportunity) becomes the stuff of existence (get up and do it all over again whether you feel like or not). Bug days. How long will it last? No one knows and I am already so tired. Push on. Be the bug - out of sorts, getting the ass end of the deal.

    I pulled through the red light, taking the long way home. Home was the second round of my work day so I was reluctant to get there. New chores waiting for me before I could finally fall into a dreamless sleep. Bug days are dreamless nights.

    I turned the corner and there it was, a rainbow arcing down through breaking clouds. Better than the bug metaphor by a long shot. I marveled at the absolute clarity that washed over me. It was all part of the grander scheme of things. It was all relative. Life.

    I whispered halleluiah.
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