Moby's bird blind. Once rumbled, he decides to come inside.
I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler, I'm a long way from home.
And if you don't like me then leave me alone.
I'll eat when I'm hungry, I'll drink when I'm dry
If the whiskey don't kill me I'll live til I die.
This tune has been running around my head this morning. A strange little song that has always pleased me for the last line of koan like nonsense. It bubbled up because I usually eat before I can even register hunger, in the morning before work. This morning, I sat and read awhile, then got tea and cereal only after I felt hungry. I've certainly rambled, and I am a long way from where I started. Gambler, if only in the sense of laying myself out there, giving life a go. And I do prefer people who don't like me to avoid me, rather than try to change me. I'll never be able to drink enough whiskey to kill me, but I do like a drop now and then.
Forms to fill today, one for work to get a discount on insurance. The other a rebate for the oil change. Nothing difficult, but I've been putting off these tedious little chores. As one does.