Why I Hope I’m Not Sent Back in Time


So, believe it or not, there have been multiple times in my life when I have hoped I am not accidentally (or against my will) sent back in time. I actually worry about this quite often, which is probably a byproduct of the books I love to read (mostly Outlander and Discovery of Witches series, highly recommend if you like witches, time travel, and steamy romance).   (whether via an actual purposeful time traveling vehicle or walking through the standing stones of the ancient variety that I love to read about all the time – a la my favorite guilty pleasure time travel hot married romance series “Outlander”).  Not simply because I’d miss my family, or because I would be challenged to make a meal without a microwave, or concerned about being tried as a witch, but mostly because I wouldn’t be able to explain how the heck we do stuff here in the present.  “Explain this iPhone”.  Well, the new 5 came out and it’s really more colorful and it has a longer screen and it does somehow seem to be better than the 4. “No, how do we make them?” Oh, yea, I don’t know.  I don’t really know how to make anything that has a plug, I just use them, and even then I’m always texting my younger hipper family members to ask how to get cool things like emojis or how to install Instagram.  “What is this miracle drug antibiotic that you say will help us not die from infection or the wretched Scarlet Fever?”  Yes, you need antibiotics.  Penicillin.  Ok, so to make it, I think you need some bread, and you let it get moldy, and then you eat the moldy parts. Except I am allergic to penicillin and mold so I can’t actually show you that this works so just trust me and go ahead and eat that. And don’t burn me as a witch, because even if I am a witch I have a constitutional right to be a pagan – I think this is part of the first amendment – so go ahead and let me do my thing. Right.


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