Inexplicable

Today is one of those Saturdays the universe calls upon to mete out punishment for an unknown—to me, anyway—infraction. The day is not appreciably different from most others, but something about it expresses a need to inflict revenge on me. Perhaps the imprecise color of the sky is the trigger that urges the universe to treat me to torture of one kind or another. Maybe a power even greater than the universe insists on exacting retribution—without even the courtesy of an explanation of my transgression. There’s no point in speculation, of course. The universe is under no obligation to explain itself. Its motives are forever hidden behind the same hazy cloud that spits lightning, torrential rain, hail, and other mayhem into the air. The rumble of thunder shattered my sleep again last night, before midnight. Later, I woke to the pillow case and sheets wet with cold sweat. The indentation of my chest, too, was filled with icy perspiration that drenched the bottom sheet when I rolled onto my side, refreshing my discomfort. The sky at that hour of the night is invisible—so it wasn’t the dull color of the atmosphere that precipitated my abuse. Something did, though. Something transformed the sheets into cold, wet rags that made me flinch when I touched them as I returned to bed after drying my chest and arms. That was the moment I knew to how to classify today. No matter how the rest of the day plays out, I can expect punishment for bad behavior; or bad thoughts. It could be something as simple as wishing I could push a certain politician in front of a fast-moving train; or wanting to douse with merthiolate a right-wing minister’s back after carving the entire Old Testament into him. I doubt I could find the courage to do either; but you never know. Today is odd and unfriendly, though; I know that.

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In utter loneliness a writer tries to explain the inexplicable.

~ John Steinbeck ~