Learning to Live

Last night, I had one of those nights where I saw the sunrise.

Which meant I spent yesterday sleeping.

Which now means, it’s 1:50 am, and I’m wide awake.

The dogs hate it when I do this.  Or maybe not.  Right now, they’re curled up in the center of my bed, in the spot where I like to put my legs, and so don’t let them sleep.  Lulu’s snoring loudly, so, obviously, she, at least, isn’t too concerned about my strange sleep habits.

Montaigne (I promise I’ll cut down on the Montaigne references.  I’m just really enjoying his book.)  Says that he who has learned not to be afraid of death has learned how not to be a slave.  I’d like to add that this is true only if you are not afraid of living, too.

I have Facebook friends who remark on the passage of the week, saying stuff like “Happy Wednesday!” for instance or, “Almost Friday!” Part of me is glad for these updates–if nothing else, it helps me keep track of the days of the week.  But on the other hand, they do mark the passage of time–time that I’m not taking advantage of.

For someone who was mourning lost opportunities a few days ago, I’m sure not taking advantage of the ones I have right now.

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If you have a bit of a stomach ache, IHOP probably isn’t the best place to go.

I’ve been stuck pretty close to the toilet all day.  But, on the other hand, the lemon pancakes they have right now are delicious.  I have a goal to find/invent a recipe duplicating them.

Montaigne and I have been becoming good friends, to the point where I found a used copy of the book I checked out of the library on Amazon for a song.  I’m excited to have a copy that I can highlight and make notes in.

While reading Montaigne is slow going, I’m enjoying it.  His essays came about because, after a lifetime of public service, he did what all proper French Noblemen did in the 15oo’s.  He set about to write a book.  The problem was, he didn’t know what to write about, so he wrote about being Michel Montaigne.  (That sounds familiar, somehow…)  It really is like the 16th century version of a blog.

I’m only about 30 pages into the essays, but what I’ve gleaned of his philosophy so far (and what the program that got me interested in reading them in the first place) can be summed up as: “Life is tough.  You’re not perfect.  Get over it.”  Good advice, no?

I need to decide quickly what I’m going to do for the 4th.  Probably nothing.  Sis is going camping with the folks, but, after driving to her house only to be ignored by G yesterday, I’ve decided that I need to give myself some space from her family.

I could go to my hometown, for the cheesy little parade that the citified B-I-L laughs at (Really, the cheesiness is part of the charm), then stick around for the fireworks, but, I have a gun shy little dog.   Right now, I’m listening to thunder and having my shoulder massaged because Lulu curled around my neck and is just shivering.

Between the seasonal thunderstorms and the fireworks that won’t stop throughout the month of July, it’s a bad time of year at my house.