This is blatant theft!
Theft from my cherished cyber-buddy and soul-sister, Jazz (who is also known to me only, so you can’t use the name, as ‘Conchita’). I was struck by her recent blog entitled “Life’s Too Short”. In her case life was too short for her to wear challenging shoes just for the sake of fashion.
While I absolutely agree with some of her areas of displeasure (though not all – we may be soul kin, but we have our individual quirks, too – I was struck more by the concept. And suffering today from a singular lack of imagination, I thought I would follow through with a few of my own sources of singular displeasure.
So, for me, with geezerdom pending shortly Life is Too Short for:
- Watching and/or listening to Nancy Grace fulminate about anything. She makes my skin crawl.
- Caring about the plight of kids with peanut allergy. Can’t eat peanuts? Then don’t. Don’t try to control what other moms put in their kids’ lunches.
- Giving a toss about the sexual preferences of other people. Whatever gets you through your nights and days and thwarts loneliness is OK by me.
- Fulminating over the fact that younger Jeopardy contestants don’t seem to have a clue about anything that happened before they were born. Politicians are disconnected from history, why shouldn’t these smart people be. Politician and ‘smart people’ are mutually exclusive, it seems these days. But, I’m not going to despair about that, either. If society has dumbed down let future generations pay the price.
- Not letting those you love know that you love them.
- Carrying on carrying on with practices and behaviors you know are deleterious to your health: smoking, drinking to excess, becoming obese, refusing health check ups, or pathological gummy bear consumption, whatever.
- Procrastinating about getting involved in: a particular hobby, helping an organization in your community that could use your talents, telling your kids that you love and respect them, but only if you do, no point in lying at this stage, telling your parents (if still living, of course) that you love them, but again only if you do. For life is also too short for about 97% of guilt.
- Wishing your house/yard was neater and more magazine-like.
- Being ashamed of your own particular pleasures. If you happen to like zither music and having your living room lamps encased in plastic wrap to offset the black-velvet paintings, that is your right.
- Worrying about using the in vogue politically-correct expressions for a host of things, people, afflictions, societal groups and so forth. I prefer cutting to the chase while refraining from being rude, insulting, or seemingly racist. People who are wheelchair-bound are crippled, not “other abled”. Blind folks are blind, not sight-impaired or, God help us, “Visually-challenged.” I use reading glasses. Am I not visually challenged, too? Oh, and as a home bread maker, a particular favorite loaf of mine has traditionally been called ‘Squaw Bread’. Am I supposed to change it to ‘Aboriginal Female Bread?’ Well, I ain’t gonna.