Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

The 100 year old won’t get out of bed this morning. To be more specific, she is refusing to let anyone help her get out of bed this morning. So, the Wife is on her way over to have lunch.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

- Dylan Thomas

Give’m hell, Vera. The Wife can’t really have a day off, anyway. She spends all her time on the cell phone with the help dealing with manipulative and abusive customers. It’s OK, they’re just women and can’t help it.

The 100 year old scandalized the countryside by wearing a halter top at 16. She ran a cordage company until she was 70, after her first husband died. She was a beautiful woman and imperious, as those of Providence, RI are said to have been. Now, all she has left is the fight. And dessert. There’s always dessert.