"Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets."
This seemed to be a thought provoking link posted by Christa at Awful Souls
How old are you?
I am 19,562 days old...
.... glass more than half full or half empty????
What will I do, what do I want to do with the days ahead? What music will I play? (and in this mood; pleasant and harmonious or discordant?)
(Not accounting for leap years):
75 years-- 27,375 days
100 years -- 36,500 days
120 years -- 43,800 days
Odd to view it in days, isn't it?
On a different note; we were so stupid (really stupid, then complacent) not to push our landlord so many years ago to let us buy this condo from him on contract or outright. I asked several times, then let it go. We've been here 18 years now- it was too easy to let the subject slide, finally thinking of it as our home, our place. Now we can't afford it, but he is selling it. Buyers come tonight to look at it. He is upset that I mentioned Los Angeles rent control laws about taking a place off the rental market (and paying a relocation fee to tenants). Life doesn't look too great from this vantage point at this moment. Silly to have tears and be emotional at every eye blink about leaving a home??? A building is just the shell, after all. It is truly the folks inside that make it a home.
My mind drifts, to somewhere else (avoidance is the desire- just for a moment, just for some breathing space)....
"It's so wonderful... if your whole day is rotten, once they start the music, it seems to melt away." ~Donald O'Connor