Ah Fall, the beginning of Primetime Series and Sports Season - a couch potato's dream. Speaking of which, in sports, when a colored flag or card is shown, people take heed. Yellow = foul, red = dismiss. It's particularly unrelenting in Soccer, where a red card not only means out, but no replacement either. Then why is it that in real life, one hesitates amidst the same warnings. On the last count, 4 flags of mine have been raised (3 yellow; 1 red). The yellows, I can handle, but the red should have been a direct sign to steer clear. Perhaps it is because, in spite of the tendency to prefer whole numbers, we still think in fractions. So really, I only see 3+ flags (2 1/2 yellow; 3/4 red). Terrible.
On an unrelated note, I asked for a sign and got one. Yet I'm not thrilled as I imagined I would be. In fact, just thinking about it makes me more sad. There was a flutter of delight when I first realized it, but not like before. Perhaps it was too simple, as I reckoned the flair of the end product would be directly proportional to the length of the wait. Perhaps it was my surrounding and mood. Either way, I refuse to even consider that I have moved on, especially not for a would be fling.
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