No monkey has ever checked its 401k. No monkey has lain awake calculating how many bananas it will need at sixty-five.
The vervet eats the fig in front of it. Tomorrow there will be another fig, or there won't, and tomorrow will sort tomorrow. There is no spreadsheet in the canopy.
We invented worry to feel like we were doing something about the future. Mostly it just rents space in the present and pays nothing.
The vervet sleeps. The fig is gone. The branch is fine.