Spare me the Details

Have you ever noticed how 90 per cent of what is going in the world is completely boring?

Cable TV ads?

Yukkily boring.

Politics?

So very boring.

AI research papers?

Too much to bore.

The environment?

Spare me.

Work?

Don’t even go there.

Famous people?

Novels?

The latest pop song, the latest app, the latest fashion trend?

Boring, boring, boring, boring, boring.

My own life?

Probably the worstest boring one of them all.

For example, a hecuba heckuva lot going on in my normally quiet life at the moment, which I usually spend contemplating a Made in Italy flower pot.

My wife, for example, recently came down with COVID.  She is okay now.

I will spare you the details.

I also just got back my own annual comprehensive blood test results  They weren’t great.

I will spare you the details.

The dog got spayed and now has to wear a satellite cone dish around her head for the next 2 weeks.

I will spare you the details.

The sale of our other house up in NY is encountering CO-related snags that might affect the upcoming closing.

I will spare you the details.

The birdfeeder in the new house in Florida is out of seed; the squirrels and cardinals have greedily munched their way through a $20 bag of feed in a day.

I will spare you the details.

I might run out of money in 15 years.

I will spare you the details.

Meanwhile, America seems to be listing heavily, with snarly charlatans and hucksters determined to take over the wheelhouse.  The ship of state might even capsize by 2024.

Ditto.

Instead, let me focus on what is truly important and totally fascinating to me in at the moment — namely, where by the sea am I going on vacation this year and do people there fish with the kind of سينارا I used to see in Alexandria?

Here’s the skinny.

If all goes well, we plan to be in mid September at Sicily’s Cous Cous fest at San Vito Lo Capo.

Why there, do you ask?

I could go on and on AND THEN ON SOME MORE about why this has to happen.

I could say, for instance:  habibi, the quality of cous cous dishes where I live is so crappy that I am compelled to travel 5,000 miles to keep from losing my mind.

Or I could say that I simply long to, again, swim in my native Mediterranean sea.

Or, I could say that I wish to again swim with the natives of the Mediterranean.

I could even claim that I desire to swim again — how to put this? — natively in the Med.

And subito at that!

But that would not be the truth of the matter, which is completely boring and inconsequential to anyone but I.

So me will spare you the details.

Until we actually make it there, of course.  I will let you know about the sinaras.