I don't have enough Kleenex in the house to watch much more of the Country Music Awards, So I thought I'd turn to my faithful old blog, but I'm afraid the mood has been set.
During the course of my lifetime, I've heard many people speculate about at what point they would no longer wish to live. A child I once worked with said he could not imagine a life without Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and I recall Barbara Walters responding to that very question by answering that it would be when her friends were all gone.
Offerings of a variety of other reasons why life would not be worth living could fill a lot of pages: I've heard many, and if I were to comment on their validity, could say that over the years, people do change their minds. The majority of people in their twenties probably look upon a life without sexual fulfillment as a life unlived, but as time exacts its inevitable toll, that deprivation becomes---meh. Suicides excepted, of the too many deathbeds I've been next to, the person struggles for every last breath of life, regardless of what they might have once thought they couldn't have lived without.
The thought occurred to me today as I sat in an office, waiting. I can do a crossword puzzle while I wait, or a Word Jumble, but I think if I ever reach the point where I carry a little book of Word Search puzzles, the time has come.
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