If I make it through this year I deserve a prize. Not a “health care is finally a bit more humane now that we’ve managed the middle man a smidge” award. Not a “saving lives” or even “making lives better” award. Not an award for patience, heaven knows; nor an award for treating man or beast well. Not an award that says “thanks for making the plant better and humanity seem less terrible.”

Just a plain old “making it through each day without offing yourself or anyone else, trying your best to be respectful, watching your mouth, and doing your best to be and raise a decent citizen by the skin of your teeth” award.

If you deserve one, too, by all means, give yourself one. Heck, give yourself one for each day you make it through. I’d offer to give you an award, or create some cute little certificate for you to print, but if you saw the list of other things I need to do and the basic Euclidean-space-temporal framework in which I’m forced to operate, you’d do the work for me.

Happy Freaking Solstice. Hope your night is nigh as long as mine.