After Ever After

There’s a reason why the story ends with “happily ever after.”

It has to.

After that, there’s nothing to say.

Trust me on this. I got to happily ever after a while ago. It’s a good place to be. I hope you get here. We’ll hang out.

I have no complaints, knock on wood.

But it leaves me with nothing much to talk about. Go ahead and make a smart-ass comment about this blog. It’s not dialogue. So there.

“I haven’t seen you in months!” she chirped at me today. “What’s been going on?”

I was stuck.

Oh, there have been a few scattered tribulations, a couple of worries here and there, nothing conducive to idle chit or idle chat.

Nobody warns you that contentment is a conversational wasteland, bereft of metaphoric tumbleweeds.

If I meet someone who looks like they might become a real friend, I end up giving them this link. That doesn’t happen often. (Hey, Ivan or Atticus or whatever I’m calling you this week, are you still here?)

The good news is that it’s not much of a problem. I live in Superficial City. Here in L.A. people say “How are you?” as an obligatory preamble to their own stuff.

So when she chirped at me today, I replied, “Not much, how are things with you?”

It worked fine. We talked for over an hour.