I'm in a bit of a funk today. Nothing serious; it's just one of those days where I tire of the fact that all of my boyfriends are fictional. I spent last night with the pie-maker and while he's the quintessential example of my "type," he's still not real. Pesky details, I know.
My funk, however, is besides the point. I was musing yesterday on something that regularly (if somewhat rarely) occupies my thoughts. *insert drum roll for dramatic effect*
The World.
No, seriously. Think about it. We're flying about the universe on what was once a teeny tiny speck of rock and is now (relatively speaking) a gigantic speck of rock, and on that rock somehow, defying all odds, there came to be things like chocolate and puppies and pie-makers. How f'ing fantastic is that? More to the point, how BIZZARE is that? I mean, if that doesn't qualify as a miracle, I don't know what does. Ok, yes, there are horrible things out there - more than I like to count. For every disease, every conflict, every piece of corruption, there are comfy sofas and madmen with a box and coffee and...
So, yes. Every so often I sit and think about how strange and wonderful and beautiful it is that all of these fantastic, weird things came from a tiny speck of rock. And, even when I'm in a funk, it makes me smile.
