During the day at work, I take a walk while on each break. I have a desk job, and I get stiff and achy.
Southern California is really the place to be for consistent, pleasant weather. I can walk in June or January, and the weather's fine no matter what. This is not the case in Ohio, which is one reason I'm glad I no longer live there.
It's really refreshing to get out of the office, get some fresh air, enjoy the birdly chirping, the valets watching soap operas on Telemundo, and corporate snobs chilling on the patio of PF Chang's. I'm lucky enough to work in a pretty area, and there are lots of trees and flowers and shrubs.
I was walking the other day, happily kicking a pine cone.
Like you do.
You know how when you're on a laid-back walk, and you encounter a pebble or other rolling item, you kick it, and catch up to it, and kick it, and catch up to it.
Eventually, the rolly thing bounces out of bounds somewhere inconvenient. You could go chase it down, and return the rolly thing to the sidewalk, and continue kicking merrily.
But you rarely do. It's too much work.
Or another pedestrian comes along, and you feel silly, so you stop.
So many of the things I want to do, attempt and/or don't manage to finish are like that. I don't want people watching me do it, or it's too much work.
Why am I depriving myself of the joys of kicking, singing, dancing, and living?
One day I'll be dead, and so many pine cones will have gone unkicked. I'll really feel silly then.
Southern California is really the place to be for consistent, pleasant weather. I can walk in June or January, and the weather's fine no matter what. This is not the case in Ohio, which is one reason I'm glad I no longer live there.
It's really refreshing to get out of the office, get some fresh air, enjoy the birdly chirping, the valets watching soap operas on Telemundo, and corporate snobs chilling on the patio of PF Chang's. I'm lucky enough to work in a pretty area, and there are lots of trees and flowers and shrubs.
I was walking the other day, happily kicking a pine cone.
Like you do.
You know how when you're on a laid-back walk, and you encounter a pebble or other rolling item, you kick it, and catch up to it, and kick it, and catch up to it.
Eventually, the rolly thing bounces out of bounds somewhere inconvenient. You could go chase it down, and return the rolly thing to the sidewalk, and continue kicking merrily.
But you rarely do. It's too much work.
Or another pedestrian comes along, and you feel silly, so you stop.
So many of the things I want to do, attempt and/or don't manage to finish are like that. I don't want people watching me do it, or it's too much work.
Why am I depriving myself of the joys of kicking, singing, dancing, and living?
One day I'll be dead, and so many pine cones will have gone unkicked. I'll really feel silly then.
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