Road Tales - Living in the Woods

In all the days I've lived none have ever been routine. I've come dangerously close at times, but pulled back quickly as if I was about to step into boiling water. 

Growing up in New Orleans conjures a different attitude toward life. In New Orleans, life is about living. What I've observed of folks that grew up anywhere else is that work and job defines their life. They always seem to be building toward a future... a future that never comes. 

How many folks die a few weeks or months after they retire. They work for 50 years, exist from day to day exhausted, and once they retire they find that they're too old to enjoy what they worked so hard to accumulate. 

I drove more than one of my wives away with my attitude, "It's only money; nothing important." I didn't care where I lived or how stylish our furniture was or how manicured our lawn looked. 

That's another thing. Why do we spend so much time trying to fix nature? I could easily spend the rest of my days in the woods and waters never mowing another lawn or trimming another shrub. Nothing in the woods needs to be painted or oiled or vacuumed or cleaned in any way. It has been like that since the beginning of time. What is it with our insistence that life be complicated by useless tasks? Where did our arrogance come from that we want to fix nature? Why do we feel compelled to fix what is already perfect? 

I don't get it and I never will. That's one of a long list of reasons why I make a terrible spouse. I seriously, wholeheartedly don't give a fuck about any of it. 

There is nothing routine in the woods. Each day brings new challenges, surprises, and chaotic bliss.