Dying, Eventually

Familiarity Breeds Contempt - maxim attributed to the great Greek philosopher, Seaweedius.

In the gratitude list part of my morning meditation I always express thanks for my health, a blessing heaped upon my brow in a great quantity.  I've been more than annoyingly sick or injured a couple of times in my life although to hear me wail, I'm cursed with the constitution of a leper.  This is one of those thank-yous that I get through quickly as in "yeah, yeah, glad I'm healthy and all that bullshit but not take care of this problem."  Yesterday was the first day that I believed that this cold wasn't going to plant me six feet under and I was positively ecstatic about it as in "hey, I'm not going to die."

Well, I'm going to die . . . maybe . . . but I don't think the cold is going to get me.

When I'm moved to complain I often think of Ken.  That guy did not complain.  That guy died of cancer and he did not complain.  He groused a couple of times and then apologized for it immediately, unaware that I was trying to figure out how to talk about how some little perceived insult in my life was eating my lunch.