I'm sure most of you had to dig your way out of the snow this morning. I must have been up before the plows this morning, felt like I almost crashed my car about 15 times. To add insult to injury, this guy I work with, I'll call him "Dave", called off and I ended up having to do half his route. Needless to say, I was out for about five hours longer than I normally am, and get this--I was passing by a convenience store on my way home, and "Dave" was heading to his car with an attractive young female. I have half a mind to tell the Ghost, but I have an inability to snitch on anyone thanks to my time in the joint.
Such anger today! What can be done? I took Stella and Warden out to play in the snow, and even their pleasure wasn't enough to get me level again. I read some more Schopenhauer. There's so much spite in his work, or simple disappointment with what he understood to be human nature. Did he see the world, pragmatically, the way that I see the world? Would he despise me for mistakes I made in the past? Did he let himself judge individuals subjectively, or did he objectively move himself into a more sympathetic position, considering people as mere victims of their own human failings?
So, I got home, I grabbed the cream, the food processor, and waited for an impulse to guide me. Sun-dried tomatoes, basil. Ahhh, that's putting my energy to good use. Delicious. Majestic. Creation. This is where I break with Mr. Schopenhauer. He said:
"A man's delight in looking forward to and hoping for some particular satisfaction is a part of the pleasure flowing out of it, enjoyed in advance. But this is afterward deducted, for the more we look forward to anything the less we enjoy it when it comes."
But that's garbage. A delicious butter, made from scratch, always satisfies fully, start to finish. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment