“I can’t go on, I’ll go on.” ~ Samuel Beckett, from I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On: A Samuel Beckett Reader

                   

“We can regard our life as a uselessly disturbing episode in the blissful repose of nothingness.” ~ Arthur Schopenhauer

The car saga continues. I was awakened by it. I tried to reason with it. I tried to be logical and factual with it. All to no avail. I was shut down, and so I made a bargain with my ever-patient spouse that if he would pick up my mother up the dealer after she gave back her car, I would do just about anything else, so desperate was to extract myself from this situation.

He did, almost. He got a flat tire on the way, and before he could fix it or I could contact my mother, she called to say not to pick her up because she had settled everything and was going to keep her car . . . Really? No way. I could hardly wait for the details. Actually, I considered leaving town indefinitely so that I wouldn’t have to hear the details. No, really.

Anyway, my day so far.

Then suddenly, while I was sitting here trying to figure out how to delete the last few days disappear from my long-term memory banks, I had a vague memory of some long-ago television show about a mother and a car. I did a little digging, and presto: “My Mother the Car.” I have no idea what this show was about, and I don’t really need to know what it was about. What matters is that there was a show, and a theme song, and it was the 60’s, and there was a van Dyke brother in it. and a mother who turned into a car, or something like that . . .

So I have arrived at this conclusion: The only thing that makes sense in life right now is “The Daily Show,” and that’s only because they don’t even have to try too hard to be funny about the news because the news is naturally bizarre without any kind of ridiculousness being piled on . . .

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