If today is less than yesterday, what guarantee do I have that tomorrow will not be less than today with today being my salad day but I missed it thinking about salad?
In the nineteen sixties there was a television commercial that asked the question:
Q: “Who made the salad?”
A: “Why Caesar made the salad!”
I made the salad. I will roll around in it getting slathered in oil and vinegar. Sometimes Balsamic. Bumping blindly into tomatoes and cucumbers and bits of onion until when all is said and done I will arise like the Phoenix from the salad all shinny and greasy with bits of vegetable stuck to me. Lest I forget, with bacon bits on me too.
That is how I know I made the salad.
So instead of looking back at days when I was around people I loved, but who might not have loved me, yet tolerated me for my salad of the day.
Or revisiting my youth when I was surrounded by people who loved me and thinking I did not sufficiently love them back.
I shan’t peer back into the fog of days spent working on things and with people I cared little for on things that were of questionable value, yet brought in a big heaping bowl of salad.
If tomorrow wasn’t such a long time I might forget the salad.
Instead I am spending today wondering where those anchovies I put on that salad have gotten to.