like water off a duck's back, or not.
Jul. 19th, 2007 04:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
healingmirthSammy has fallen off at least eight things in the two hours since I've been home, and is totally unperturbed by it. I'm not sure what other reaction I could expect, from a cat, but it's heartening and a little bit scary to see his energy so undisturbed by repeated failure.
I'm not typically a huge fan of Pink or her insight into the human condition, but today part of one of her songs is speaking to me.
When someone said count your blessings now, 'fore they're all gone,
I guess I just didn't know how. I was all wrong.
They knew better...
The song is (I think?) about someone who promised "forever", and then died. That part, while heart-wrenching and all, I'm not really all that concerned with.
I am singularly bad at counting my blessings. I half-heartedly complain pretty much all the time, about every bump in the road. In my head, I really don't take it seriously. My life is pretty good, by most standards. At a minimum, it's pretty easy; I guess you could argue that my general laziness leads to a less fulfilling life, but I'm fed, clothed and housed, so at least I'm not worried. Sometimes I worry, though, that my petty complaining for comedic effect makes me seems ungrateful, which I am most definitely not. I'm very happy to be in a position where my largest concern is something that can be spun so easily into an amusing story. Like my cat falling off the table (nine) and knocking over all three of the recycling bags.
I'm not typically a huge fan of Pink or her insight into the human condition, but today part of one of her songs is speaking to me.
When someone said count your blessings now, 'fore they're all gone,
I guess I just didn't know how. I was all wrong.
They knew better...
The song is (I think?) about someone who promised "forever", and then died. That part, while heart-wrenching and all, I'm not really all that concerned with.
I am singularly bad at counting my blessings. I half-heartedly complain pretty much all the time, about every bump in the road. In my head, I really don't take it seriously. My life is pretty good, by most standards. At a minimum, it's pretty easy; I guess you could argue that my general laziness leads to a less fulfilling life, but I'm fed, clothed and housed, so at least I'm not worried. Sometimes I worry, though, that my petty complaining for comedic effect makes me seems ungrateful, which I am most definitely not. I'm very happy to be in a position where my largest concern is something that can be spun so easily into an amusing story. Like my cat falling off the table (nine) and knocking over all three of the recycling bags.
