It’s a fact. I can answer that with the best of them. I can give you an excellent no response . Direct and to the point.
They call me Make Do Pete.
Ergo I can say, as well as the Dickens you say, that every day in my life has held true to that quote.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” — Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities. Not “They call me Make Do Pete.”
Enough to scare the Dickens out of me. As we all well know, none of which has any thing to do with Charlie.
But I can be lying in the back of an ambulance with the newbie stabbing me repeatedly and telling his compatriot that he has to learn to start IV’s sometime, as I shiver from blood loss and shock. I look at my hands. See they are OK and think, “It’s alright. I can still play my guitar.”
Or After a extremely draining marriage. Financially, emotionally, metaphysically, all I can hear when the gavel comes down is. “You can go get some strange after fourteen years of this one.”
Or loosing the baggage of a twenty five year career that freed me from never having to act like a gave a flying you know what at a rolling doughnut as to what these well paid carnival barkers and dancing bears thought was valuable. Of course that baggage included a comfortable living. Now knowing that I never need fear some one schmoozing me for my wallet. Not that sales people, internet shills, wanna be friends , and some dames don’t give it the occasional go. Do a credit check sometime sunshine. I know I should have done one on she whom I toiled for. Although it was in some ways the best of times it was also indeed the worst. I was just too busy to notice. Made it worth the walk away from the sense of urgency crowd.
So here I am teetering on the edge of the abyss that is life knowing it is yet another day of the best of times and the worst of times all rolled into this big spam sushi roll of existence.