There is an expression in our vernacular about someone who just flat goes nuts when the repetitive nature of their jobs or activities overwhelm them. It is called "going postal". The poor Post Office employees sit at their stations sorting mail that never stops coming. There is nothing that they can point to saying that they have made any progress or that their work is done. It just keeps piling in incessantly, never ending, never abating, if only for a short time. Eventually for some of these people, something inside of them snaps, and they go insane. They go on a killing spree to ease their tortured minds. It finally gives them a sense of accomplishment. See, that lifeless corpse, I did that. I set my mind to it and completed the job. Check one off for me .... finally.I have come to understand the notion of "going postal". I get the mindset of people stuck with never-ending tasks. I can relate. You see, I have a yard. I have many trees in and around my yard. It is now fall. Fall is called "fall" because that is when the leaves drop from their holding positions in the tree limbs and drift down onto our properties. One job of a homeowner is to rake that unsightly foliage up and put it into bags on the curb. However, no sooner have we raked the yard, bundled up 5 or 10 huge garbage bags with leaves, then our yard is covered once again. It never ends. It is maddening I tell you. I brings me to the freakin' edge man!!
My problem is that I believe in the sanctity of human life. Even if I snapped, I don't think that I have it within me to kill another human to relieve my cranial dementia. But, I have noticed that tree squirrel eyeing me and chitter-chattering at me. I bet he is somehow responsible for all of this. Rocky over there will be my first victim when I lose it.
