The Difference of a Day

You may find this hard to believe, fair reader, but today I am content with my singularity.

I know, I know, after reading this blog you may think I’m at best a huge whiner, at worst a crazed schizo with split personalities, but the simple fact is that I’m a little bit of both and a lot more. (Just like you, I like to imagine.) What comes out depends on my mood, my intent with the blog, and, of course, my current state of sobriety. Often, I’m not exactly sure what’s lurking in the depths of my consciousness, and am just as surprised at what is produced ¬†when I put finger to keyboard as I’m sure you are.

So, for the moment, I am content, maybe even happy, to be free from the worry of relating, questioning, or considering the rest of existence. This morning it was all about me, my, and I! A fresh cup of coffee next to the river, a good book (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) on the Kindle, and the freedom to enjoy the cloudless, 50 degree day blooming before me.

So, yeah, today I am content. The lingering effects of last night’s beers, my want and worry, my overwhelming desire to be attached, all gone. Today I am Single, not single.

That, my friends, is the difference of a day.

Still happily unattached and daydreaming of ways to mess that all up,

Scott

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