I don't even really care anymore

I don't get it. And I don't even really care anymore.

Do people still send postcards instead of sms or email? Especially when time is of the essence? And to send postcard from an inefficient European country where there is a strike every other week?

Anyway, so the woman shows up here and phones me asking to meet up. I had exactly the one afternoon free for lunch, take it or leave it. And at a location near my home, not somewhere on Orchard Road with the mad Christmas crowd.

We did manage to meet. And it was a couple of hours of torture, listening to her preachifying to me about the waywardness of today's youth, criticising our peers who are under-achievers, and praising her own endeavours at making a meaningful life.

Sigh. Alright. I let her speak her mind. I don't really bother to counter the falsehoods she belabours.

Because her mind is made up. And like the unthinking youth, the life-long bum-abouts and the rest of us who try to live meaningfully, we will each carry on doing exactly what we set our minds to do.

Only one thought stayed with me: this woman who thinks she is the paragon of everything righteous and proper, does she even realise she is the only one who does not sms or email (or even phone), but chooses to send postcards? In this day and age? When time is of the essence?

She will never admit she cannot handle sms or email. But that's neither here nor there. She is above all shortcomings.

Whatever her problem is with the world today, I don't even really care anymore.