In The Firm Embrace Of A Complicated Spreadsheet

We were born and doomed to die, sucking every second that the clock had to offer. That is to say we were reading through the Sunday paper giving longing looks at the ads that most sold us. We could be ramming each other against the southern most exposure but today was Tuesday and Tuesday was the day we read the Sunday paper. If ever we were going to break a window in the throws of passionate lovemaking, it was going to be on Saturday.

Our calendar was made up of a complicated list of if, then scenarios that allowed us to live our lives as we saw fit and it was all possible thanks to the digital age. The physical demands of such a calendar would be too much and no blotter could handle such a massive load. Now we could just type ctrl f and then horny and we would both knew that it was to be Saturday when the fucking would commence. Ecclesiastics it turns out was just horribly disorganized. Time for reaping? Tuesday, 11:45 pm.

I’m serious, we garden right before midnight. We where goggles and everything else needed to be proficient night gardeners. We were looking forward to it. Really it’s been a god send and we’d have 10 months of good orderly fun. That gunshot was really a blessing in disguised. It opened my eyes to new possibilities. I had no idea I could reschedule death but 2180 seemed like a better time for it.

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