Earth to Ron

Earth:  Come in Ron.

Ron:  Ron here! Whazup?

Earth:  You've been nursing for some time.

Ron:  Yes, sixty-two years or so.  Which reminds me.  Why don't we count the first year and natal time?

Earth:  First, you must know, the answer to your question is trivial.  Then, you also know, it's a human convention, not mine.  And, sixty-two years is not trivial in "human years".  You are coming into a life span, Ron, and your nursing days are numbered.

Ron:  I've been thinking of that since starting my apprenticeship as a farmer.  These first three years have made me reflect often on my time on your teat.  I've seen the other live things coming and going on Blue Moon Farm far faster than neighbors or myself and Lyn.   

Earth:  You are a keen observer of the trivial, Ron. 

Ron:  Oh, I don't think of it as trivial.  I take my death very personally.  Everyone seems to know something about dying.  Not everyone knows much at all about their own death.

Earth:  That's what I mean, Ron.  Contemplating your own death is just more trivia.  My humans are unique in one way.  You all try to keep track of how many of you you are on me.  Hey, it's like 6 or 7 billion on last report, but then I'm not counting; you guys are.

Ron:  Now there's some trivia for you.  Earth is now keeping score.  If you're not keeping count what's the point?

Earth:  All my pets are different, Ron.  Humans are my big spenders.  They dip into my savings account like wayward children.  No caution lights on there, for sure.  The other little live things just keep doing their part, coming and going.  Humans have a tendency to push their luck I'm beginning to notice.  Usually I don't notice for ten or twenty million years, but my humans are quite advanced in their demands after only a couple million years of trials.  Notice, Ron, how I didn't follow "trials" with the trite use of "errors".  I don't make errors, Ronnie.  I do trials.  To error is human and a convention that doesn't work on the grand scheme scale of things.

Ron:  What do you mean you don't make mistakes.  How about the dodo bird or dinosaurs and such extinctions.  Weren't they mistakes?

Earth:  No more than you were, Ron.  Do you consider yourself a mistake?

Ron:  Hell no!  That would be absurd.  Well, some days I think I've abused my share of the teat, but I'm an American son of the Great Generation.

Earth:  Blow it out your butt, Ron.  You're making hay out of sunshine; pure trivia.

Ron:  Whoaaa, Horse!  You're loosing me here.  You write like nothing matters.

Earth:  Well?

Ron:  Well, what?  "Making hay out of sunshine is not trivial.  It's essential!

Earth:  Making grass out of sunshine is not trivial, Ron.  Making "hay" out of sunshine is human convention and trivial.

Ron:  Well, that depends on your point of view, wouldn't you say?

Earth:  Daaaaaaa!, Ron.

Universe to Earth, come in Earth.

Earth:  Yeah, Earth here. What?

Universe:  Go for a spin, Earth, you don't know what you're writing about.