I was awakened this morning by hundreds of twitterers tweeting their delight at seeing the sun come up. Yes, the robins have returned. Hundreds of them were flitting about my yard, tweeting as they searched for the bugs and worms that make up their favorite breakfast.
After I enjoyed a breakfast not made up of bugs and worms, but of eggs though not robins’ eggs as that would have been too surreal and as far as I know they don’t sell robins’ eggs at my local market, I remembered that I hadn’t checked my mailbox yesterday. By this time, most of the robins had moved to the trees for a little rest and relaxation after their morning meal so I felt secure that the bluebird of happiness wearing a robin costume would not poop on my head as I made my way to the mailbox.
Among the normal mail was a little book, entitled On The Edge Of Time, Preparing For The Crisis Ahead. At first I thought, H.E. had sent me her latest book as a reward for accurately guessing one of her demented love letter writers a few weeks back as the cover of this book was quite similar to the cover of her first book. Then I opened the little book, read the first line with its reference to Star Wars and knew H.E. did not write this.
Somewhere midway through the third paragraph was this sentence, “The Creator of the Universe wants you to know the truth…. and He has placed this book in your hands …” Uh, no, He didn’t. I most definitely walked out to my mailbox and found it in there, though He might be residing in my mailbox. If so, I feel bad as it was quite chilly last night and had I known the Creator of the Universe had taken up residence in my mailbox I would have invited Him in and we could have shared a pitcher of sangria and He could have answered all of the questions I wrote yesterday, although I already know that the answer to life, the universe and everything is 42.
Now, I’m not particularly religious in that I don’t particularly care about religion and I don’t call any particular religion my own. I do have friends who are particularly religious and they often try to tell me that the Creator of the Universe takes a personal interest in me. I tend to think the Creator of the Universe would have better things to do, but the appearance of this little book got me wondering if maybe He had taken an interest in me.
Then I turned the little book over and glanced at the mailing label. The Creator of the Universe knows where I live but thinks my name is Resident. I’m not good with names either, but I don’t claim to be the Creator of the Universe. Now, I know that the Creator of the Universe must have quite a bit on His mind, but He did impress upon me in the third paragraph of the inside cover of His book that He wants me to know the truth, but the truth is I would be more impressed if He knew my name.
I’d be even more impressed if the money that was spent to produce this glossy 112 page book, purchase a mailing list and mail the little book to thousands of “Residents” had been used to, oh, I don’t know, help the poor. Even the Creator of the Universe might have been impressed with that.