My daughter stopped down here awhile back, looked around, and asked me if I'd like her to organize my basement office. Honestly, I wouldn't know how to do begin. There are tons of stuff that can be dumped down here--that kind of organization I understand. But it was hard for me to envision exactly what she meant, so great my messy sin.
Apparently, the mess'll kill me. I shouldn't be surprised. According to a story in the Daily Beast this morning, psychologists say that a personality disposition toward orderliness, toward organization and self-control, is a key toward longevity. Makes sense, I guess. Got get me some.
And then this. Those who see the glass half full depart the terra firma more with greater dispatch than those who see it half empty. That's right, a basic disposition of cheerfulness and what-me-worry can altogether too easily do you in.
Again, the reason is understandable. Hopeful, cheerful people tend not to indulge themselves in worry. A jolly disposition is sweet company, but, in this age as well as any other, well, dangerous. Paranoia and anxiety don't necessarily increase your years, but unbridled optimism generally posts no sentries and thus becomes victim to enemies the wary simply don't miss.
But then, who wants to live forever? You probably heard this one. Ed and Fred are playing a heavenly round of golf up in the clouds somewhere, enjoying themselves.
"Got to love the greens on this course," Ed says, putting his putter back in the bag.
"Never much of wind either," Fred says.
"Great food all over up here--you ever notice?" Ed asks. "Not only that, gas is free."
"And the weather is perfect--never too hot, never too cold," Fred says.
They're walking over to the next tee, when Ed says, "Here's what I'm thinking," he says, "--if we hadn't eaten all that stupid wheat germ, we could've been here long ago."
Yeah, well--time to clean up the basement.