Photo bombed photos make life worth living.
It’s been another week of fighting with the insurance company, there have been two trips to the DMV and the bog of paperwork keeps getting boggier.
To top it off, the sun is baking and I feel uninspired and unimaginative.
I’m my own worst enemy and I know it.
When I hear people say things like live every day like it’s your last, I’m always a little lost. If it were indeed my last day, I wouldn’t be doing laundry or taking out the trash. Yet I’m pretty sure that there would be a general outcry if tomorrow there are no clean underpants. It’s hard to mourn properly when you lack washed skivvies. Just saying.
I think the message that the ‘live every day like it’s your last’ people are trying to send is that every day matters, even the days that are longer than they are deep.
When the muck is knee high and the devil is whispering black nothings in your ear, I find it helpful to chant something. Here’s my new favorite: Saints are sinners who kept on going. Robert Louis Stevenson
Keep going friends, keep going.
We’ll get there yet.
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