Because horses have bad breath...

For the majority of my day, between creation (not in the biblical or reproductive sense), and recreation (surfing for the latest YouTube phenom, or satirical take on politics), I sit, and I plan.

I plan the auditions for the coming day, I plan the weekend I spend with my 12 yr old karmic blessing (my daughter), and I plan the shooting schedule for 6 shorty shorts.

So, when I think to myself,

"Self, do you really want to drag your hefty carcass, to the shower, to the closet, to the bagel joint, then..to work?"

To which I saltily reply, "No, but seeing as we're not obscenely wealthy, nor the lack of moral fiber that would allow us to be a kept man, we gotta take our gluts to work! Now GET UP!" I'm very surly in the mornings.

So, after a good seeing to, I get up, shower, shave, dress, and leave for work. And like millions of others, in much the same predicament, find myself, in a grey cubicle looking for ways to stave off my daily duties. But then it hits me, I'm employed, I'm not homeless, shoeless, toothless, and living in a crate under the Manhattan Bridge, I've a job. A job that affords me the ability to support my child, pay my bills (snicker...when I can), feed, clothe, and shelter myself.

I am blessed. I even have the ability to give to those who aren't like me. A dollar here, and there, not much but something, so that they can have a bagel in the morning, just like me.

In this position, and apart from their bad breath... It's hard to look a gift horse in the mouth.

fin.