When the hockey’s as good as the beer.
The puck will drop and slide down the ice,
and all the men will ignore their wives.
The red light will light to the crowds delight,
And we might just see a good fight.
And the losers all to whine,
For it’s Lord Stanley’s time to shine.
It’s the Playoff time of year.
Two improvised bombs exploded near the finish line of the 117th Boston Marathon. 3 people lost their lives that day. 1 more in the week that followed. Countless injured. But what still stands out to many from the Boston area is not the bombs, or the aftermath. It is the selflessness by the officers, medical staff and countless other civilians that took it upon themselves to step up and take charge in the care of strangers. People they had never seen before, never mind met. The city of Boston came together that day, and the week that followed, and proved resilience. This is where many of us call home. We may not live in the city, but the city lives in us. Heroes are not in costumes, they are often in plain clothes. They do not run away from danger, Instead they run full speed at it.
Popping someone’s bubble of ignorance and forcing them to deal with reality.
That when I live alone I will basically live in darkness. I never change burnt out lightbulbs. They just sit there until someone else notices and brings me new ones. And even then I don’t change them. They just sit there until someone changes them. Someone other than me. My light has 4 bulbs. 3 are out. And until that last one burns out, it will stay just like that.