So 2020 was a shit year, all the way around.
But holy hell, 2021 sure as shit seems to want to make it personal.
My father-in-law died of liver cancer back in May. The funeral was in June. Beautiful Wife found out she had breast cancer in July. We're doing a full double-mastectomy in August. The boys start school again in about a week and a half, in person, masks optional because the Governor of Texas is a murderous asshole. At my work, we just delayed -- again -- a major software migration because the goddam application has too many problems and we haven't been able to get it ready. And last week we learned that we had very possibly been exposed to COVID, because you can't vaccinate kids under twelve and the newer variants can still infect vaccinated folks even if they don't seem to do them as much immediate damage.
We got tested over the weekend, and the tests came back negative, but still. Avoiding people for another week, just to be sure.
Also, it's raining outside -- I'm writing this on Sunday -- which I normally find comforting but right now? Here? In Texas? In August? --feels like the bell that tolls for the end of the world by way of climate change.
And we could solve this. We could solve all of this. We could solve this, except we can't because of all the people who keep insisting that we shouldn't be worried about it in the first place.
I've said before that it's probably a good thing that the gods don't grant me Vast Supernatural Powers because I'd actually use them, but I've reconsidered. Give me that sort of power. See what I do with it. And let the powers of this world weep, because I'm sick to death of doing that myself over issues that shouldn't be issues.
Burn it all down.