
Another over-share from the mysterious mind of John
There is a particular kind of quiet that exists only at 5:30 in the morning. It is a heavy, expectant silence, the kind that feels like it belongs to the house itself rather than the people living in it. Usually, I am a creature of habit, rising at 6:30 a.m. with the sun. But today, the body had other plans. A pre-dawn trip to the bathroom turned into an accidental wake-up call for Jim, my friend, landlord, and housemate.
I never intend to disturb the peace of the house that early, but as they say, no damage was done. We simply found ourselves starting the day an hour ahead of schedule. However, I am a firm believer that some traditions are sacred, and breakfast is one of them. Despite the early start, I held out until 7:00 a.m. to sit down to my morning meal.
It was a “normal” breakfast by my current standards, which is a victory in itself. I had two perfectly poached eggs, a warm bowl of Cream of Wheat with two tablespoons of peanut butter and a teaspoon of sugar stirred in for that perfect balance of salt and sweet, and a crispy Ore-Ida hash brown potato cake. All of this was washed down with a steaming cup of decaf coffee.
For many, this might seem like a simple meal, but for me, it represents a significant milestone. I am currently in my ninth week of recovery from a bout of C. diff. If you’ve ever dealt with it, you know it is a grueling, exhausting ordeal that turns your relationship with food into a minefield. For weeks, every bite was a gamble. But now, things are finally resolving. Being able to eat “normal” foods in normal quantities without negative consequences is a blessing I don’t take for granted. It feels like reclaiming a piece of my life that the illness had stolen.
With breakfast finished and the sun finally up, the day stretches out before me with a beautiful lack of urgency. I have no specific plans, which is exactly how I like it. There is a quiet satisfaction to be found in the mundane rhythm of domestic life: lounging around the house, tackling the stack of dishes in the sink, making the beds, and running the vacuum sweeper. There is a meditative quality to housework when you aren’t in a rush to be anywhere else.
Later, the entertainment will likely be a tug-of-war between our varying tastes. Jim prefers the PBS radio channel, a choice that I’ve never quite been able to wrap my head around. To me, it is an endless stream of mundane segments—interminable discussions on “how does our garden grow” and other topics that could put a caffeinated squirrel to sleep. I find it incredibly boring, and frankly, it riles me up a bit to think that our tax dollars go toward supporting such programming. I’d much rather flip on the television or find a station with a bit more life to it.
However, when I’m not grumbling about the radio, my mind tends to wander toward the much larger, more chaotic world outside our front door. Specifically, the escalating situation in Venezuela. It feels as though we are on the precipice of a conflict that has been brewing for a long time.
Washington’s intentions are always difficult to gauge, shrouded in the usual diplomatic doublespeak. The official line often leans heavily on the narrative of stopping the flow of drugs into the United States, but I’ve always been a skeptic of that justification. To me, the “drug front” feels like a convenient mask for a much older, much more cynical motivation.
I suspect, as I have for a long time, that our involvement is really about grabbing control of Venezuela’s vast oil supplies. When you look at the history of geopolitics, the trail almost always leads back to energy and resources. The drug claims feel like a smokescreen designed to garner public support for what is essentially a resource grab. I could be wrong, of course—I’m just a man eating his hash browns and thinking out loud—but the patterns of history have a way of repeating themselves.
As I ponder the fate of nations, I’m also looking forward to lunch. We’re planning a menu of grilled pork tenderloin, a baked potato, and green beans. It’s another “normal” meal that, just a few weeks ago, would have been impossible for me to enjoy.
Before I sign off and get to that vacuuming, I want to point you toward some reading that I think is essential. If you want to get a better handle on the state of America today, you really should check out what “In Saner Thought” has written in his blog this week. It’s titled “Last Week at the SHT Show,” and you can find it at lobotero.com. I find his perspective to be not only informative and amusing but deeply important for understanding the current climate.
Take a moment to read it. In a world that feels increasingly chaotic, a bit of “saner thought” is something we could all use. As for me, the dishes are calling, and the vacuum isn’t going to push itself. Stay well, eat well, and keep your eyes open.


