Wednesday, June 4, 2008

One more before bedtime:

I wrote this as a non-thought when I was at the temp job. I still like it so I'll share it.
---remember, this was about a month ago---
How about that rain, eh?

Naturally, gentle reader, you already know that I loved it. It was dark and gloomy and the night was moist and because I live where I do the night air also had a delicious chill to it that put me almost immediately to sleep at bedtime.

I'm tempted to launch into one of my signature rants here, concerning pampered businesspeople who wear designer leather shoes, people who upon the gentle kiss of a single drop of rain on their rose-scented skin decide to spend the rest of the day furiously snivelling about how much they hate the rain and wish it would go away forever. I'm tempted. Really. I'm genuinely tempted to accuse them of arrogance and ignorance and fluffy, opulent, overfed stupidity - but at the end of it all I just don't care enough. If they want to spend their whole energies on hating rain, then fine. Whatever. If they want to invest every fiber of their souls into wishing that nature would grind to a halt and immediately lift them onto a super high gloss magazine cover forevermore, well then I guess that's their perogative.

Instead of a tirade here, I'll try something different and take a moment to list the things that I don't go a day without feeling gratitude for. I, too, have been accused of taking things for granted. I have been, because I do. We all do. So now I'm going to list the reasons why I can walk around my world on days like this and just keep realizing that I am absolutely the luckiest person I know. Even if my pants still don't fit.

I'm grateful for the following: I get to vote. I get to wear pants. To my job. Which pays for my mortgage. On a house. With hot water and air conditionning and ceiling fans. I get to wake up. Every morning. In my bed. I get to eat breakfast. Every day. In my kitchen. I get to drive. To my job. In my car. By myself. I get to eat whatever I want for lunch. I get to drive home. To my house. I have dishes to wash, and clothes to put away. I have neighbors. I have a pet cat. I can read. I can play games. On the TV. I can go to bed whenever I want. In a room that is dark and quiet. And soft. And safe. And dry.

All of these mundane, boring things are utter luxuries and I know it. They are undeniably luxurious, and make me one of the richest people on the planet. I don't wear $500 jeans, but I can walk around in public wearing shorts and sandals and not a day goes by I don't take a moment to realize that such a thing is... it's better than platinum. It's freedom.

I have freedom. I have a rich, luxurious life full of clean water, fresh food, and barcodes. I go to bed each night (even on my worst "poor me" days) and always feel at least a flicker of gratitude for that freedom. I hope you, too, gentle reader, can find a way to just delight in the smallest things every now and then. Know that the vast majority of the humans on this planet don't get these freedoms. Many didn't even get to wake up today. Without being too heavy handed (too late?), I felt compelled to share this today.

I do an awful lot of whining and hand-wringing. Today, in the rain, I felt compelled to let the whole entire world know that I still know how lucky I am.

How very very lucky I am.

Even if my pants still don't fit.

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