Burnt

All of a sudden, I hear people talking about the Burnt Toast Theory and I wonder how they knew that I have decided, if I ever get back on the radio, to go by the fake name "Burt Toast." Perfect for a morning deejay, eh?

No, and anyway, they're talking about some sort of Tik-Tok meme about burnt toast, and as a non-Tiky-Toker, I have not seen what they mean, but what I read is that if your toast burns one morning and you have to take time to pop in two more slices of Pepperidge Farm, it might not be the worst thing ever to happen.

I think of the girl who was a year behind me in junior high and high school who, ten years later, was driving down Falls Rd and was hit by a bullet fired by some kids who had found a gun and played with it. The woman was pregnant, and as I recall the story, they saved the baby, but the mom died from the bullet wound, and it led to thinking that if she had been at that exact spot one second earlier or one second later, it would not have happened.

But it did, proving the veracity of Alan Seeger's words about having a rendezvous with death at some disputed barricade.

And on the brighter side, the minutes you spend re-toasting might give you time to think about a new idea for your job, a new way to tell your partner about how deep your love is, a chance to sing "We Want Mine" while the Toastmaster General does its thing... 

Enjoy your extra moments. We all want ours!