Undercurrents in my Life

On our walk this morning towards Ladronka though hardly abrading its border in the end, I stepped in psí hovno. Well, I assume it was psí hovno. It could well have been lidské hovno, but I suspect not, as most people clean up after their pet humans when they leave waste product on the sidewalk. After stepping in said psí hovno, I spent many minutes shuffling along the gutters of our street (since the event happened close to our home on the way back from hardly abrading the border of Ladronka) scraping the front portion of the sole of my shoe across as many dew-laden, unsuspecting plants and grassy tufts as possible. It was a classic moment of absurdity like Camus described in The Myth of Sisyphus. Regardless, I suspect that the reason that characters like the plumpest humorist of our time get killed off early in stories is because they are the “funny guy” who, if he stayed around, would irritate the other prominent characters to the point of murderous rage. However, since characters…

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