Fiddling on the roof
At one point this weekend, I was up on a decently pitched roof (12/12, or however you say it) of a two-floor house, with no form of safety, slopping tar on some holes. Later, it occured to me that, given the precariousness of the situation, it's quite likely that, in at least a few parallel dimensions splitting off from that moment, my foot slipped or I lost my balance and fell to my death.
Thinking about that, I felt a little guilty. By definition, I'm no better than those other mes, but I lived while they died. Where's the justice? Where do I send flowers? Does Hallmark make a card for this?
Thinking about that, I felt a little guilty. By definition, I'm no better than those other mes, but I lived while they died. Where's the justice? Where do I send flowers? Does Hallmark make a card for this?