The Transporter Couch

Not long ago, I said, and I do indeed quote myself, “I don’t like working.” And that is true.

And later I said, “I don’t like manual labor, and I don’t like rote chores.” And that is true.

The first utterance is like saying “I wanna kill people.” Nobody LIKES working, and no sane person wants to kill people. Thus that. But I wish to elaborate on the second. First, I’m not really cut our for manual labor. I’m not “disabled” but I’m not physically strong. (Though I do have, I think, a nice body) I love being outdoors and indoors. I love finishing a project, whether that be a story or a pie or clean baseboards or a flowerbed. It’s all beautiful and valuable and joyful. But therein lies the connection. I don’t want to be a writer, or a baker or a maid or a gardener. I certainly don’t disparage anyone who makes a living thus employed…… Frankly, there’s lots of money to be made in all those fields.

There’s a lyric I can’t quite place, “I don’t want to be dead, but I’m not too keen on living.” Sometimes I just relish the softness of my life. U2 (back before their whiny sanctimonious phase and in the midst of their Bono is insane phase) sings in a song, “You’ve got to get yourself together”

“You’ve got yourself stuck in a moment and you can’t get out of it. Don’t say that later will be better you’ve got stuck in the moment and and you can’t get out of it.”

I think I’m stuck in a moment.