Last night, as I curled up in bed, I did a bunch of things you aren't supposed to do. I ruminated about the current state of my guinea pig's water bottle; it seems like it's leaking. Should I run out and replace it after work? Don't all water bottles leak? Maybe I need to replace all of his bedding now because that water is going somewhere and I know it's not all in the piggie. I also noticed that some lotion I used had a strange lemony scent, but I couldn't figure out which one it was, and wasn't sure if I liked that.
Then, to round out my before-bed sins, I opened up my laptop and logged on to Facebook. That's when I saw the posts rolling in: Osama Bin Laden confirmed dead. I'm so used to the idea of accepting that he was running around Afghanistan and who knows where else, spreading confusion and terror, that I think I just accepted he'd die a natural death and we'd never know when it was. I'd heard rumors about him being dead already. Most of them were on tabloids that had him sharing the front page with giant bugs and Martian landings in Ohio, but hey, anything is possible.
I hope that this means we can get away from the partycolored threat level system and that flying can be a dignified experience once again. I doubt that'll happen, but I can dream. I know this probably won't be the end of terrorism against the U.S. Even our homegrown weirdos can't be trusted, as we saw with Tim McVeigh.
On a more depressing note, I realized this means I've been working on my current manuscript (on and off and in different versions) for 10 years. It's hard to forget what was going on in the fall of 2001. In a way, this development somehow makes it easier for me to bring this project to a close. I started it during a time in my life when I felt hopeless more often than not, and the country was full of depressed and terrified people. With an end to Bin Laden, it's a little easier to close the door on that era.
Not to go and get all New Agey, but I think it applies here: may we be free from suffering, may we be at peace.