Silence Breaks Through

1:05 am:

So I am driving home stoned enough to be thinking about it when I also suddenly think about the irony of me wanting to put my seatbelt on -- not because I usually don't, but because usually I really don't. (For me that would be consistency, not irony.)

It was because the alarm was not going off. Nothing. Silence. There was no obnoxious "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" sound. And yet it should have been going off; it had every right to go off.

I hate it!

Yet now, now that the alarm was not going off, even though it should have been going off, and certainly had every right to go off . . . now, of all times, it was not going off.

Why?

Would this be the night my head breaks the windshield, tonight of all nights, the one night I did not defy good advice?  I really should put the damn seatbelt on. I actually wanted to.

Hence the irony. Silence broke though.

But right about then, when I have that very thought, and just as I am about to put the damn seatbelt on, the obnoxious noise starts up.

"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!"

So I stopped. I sensed a trap.  It was yelling at me again. Barking orders. I cautiously backed out. I defied it.

But what of the morning alarm?

“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!”

Time to get back into the wilds for awhile. The silence breaks through.