Lunch was much better today than on Wednesday. I took my own “life is too short…” advice and skipped the cardboard tubes in favor of some tasty actual pizza at the Mellow Mushroom. Unfortunately, yesterday wasn’t nearly as great. I slaved through lunch doing a software upgrade at a customer site, but that’s neither here nor there. And, yes, I do seem to place an inexplicable amount of significance on lunch around here. Some might even consider it excessive. Of course, they would be wrong.
A fellow has to have priorities in life, right?
Anyway, I admittedly had some mixed experiences this week, so it was good to finish on a high note. Afterward, with a pizza-filled belly gurgling happily, I considered my previous post briefly and came to the conclusion that the whole “life is too short” for stuff we find unpleasant, mediocre, or otherwise distasteful probably really isn’t the best long-term philosophy. I mean, sure, when you’re looking at lunch options for your work week it works alright, but there’s some pretty serious opportunity for misapplication here.
Obviously, no one likes to have to get up out of a warm bed, groom oneself presentably, and give most of their day to The Man on some miserably cold Monday morning. But if you take that as a chance to play the “life is too short to deal with work” card, odds are good that eventually you’re going to end up a grotesque shut-in that spends 360 days out of the year in a dingy bathrobe living on bad coffee while wrapping an Eggo blueberry waffle around a Hershey bar and covering the whole thing in nacho cheese for breakfast.
That’s not to suggest that I was anything but extremely proud of my whole Shun the Lean Pocket concept, potentially even too proud considering we’re just talking about lunch on a Wednesday here. But ultimately, I can’t just up and decide to eat whatever I want, wherever I want. Every time I might decide that life is too short to skip dessert – and let’s be honest, that’s going be, um, daily – a honking piece of cheesecake or a double scoop of Graeter’s chocolate chocolate-chip in a chocolate-dipped (duh, why not…life is short, remember?) waffle cone is going to follow. And as tasty as all that sounds, I suppose I really would prefer to avoid resembling Jabba the Hutt at any point in my life.
Clearly, some restraint is probably not a terrible idea.
So what’s the magic key then? How are we supposed to embrace such a valuable concept without reducing ourselves to gluttonous, slothful, layabouts?
Moderation, people, let’s see some good old-fashioned moderation applied here. Because the idea, last time I checked, is to enjoy that life we’ve been talking about for as long as possible, rather than going off the deep-end and flaming out in a shockingly destructive display of personal disregard.
As the immortal Dean Wormer said in the American film classic, Animal House, “Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son.”
Then again, I’ve heard worse goals, if you ask me.