Because the more it spins, the further it goes

 NOTHING to do but work;

  Nothing to eat but food;

Nothing to wear but clothes,

  To keep one from going nude.

Nothing to breathe but air;

  Quick as a flash ’tis gone;

Nowhere to fall but off;

  Nowhere to stand but on.

 

Nothing to comb but hair;

  Nowhere to sleep but in bed;

Nothing to weep but tears;

  Nothing to bury but dead.

 

Nothing to sing but songs,

  Ah, well, alas! alack!

Nowhere to go but out;

  Nowhere to come but back.

 

Nothing to see but sights;

  Nothing to quench but thirst;

Nothing to have but what we’ve got;

  Thus thro’ life we are cursed.

 

Nothing to strike but a gait;

  Everything moves that goes.

Nothing at all but common sense

  Can ever withstand these woes.

Just off the weekly Skype with my mother and brother. Haunted (not haunted) by my friendly ghost father. Made any number of decisions over the last three years that he would have advised me against while secretly proud that I took a stand. And that, at least for me, is enough.