Summer shorts…

Something always seems to hijack your bliss. It could be a neighbor who hangs out on his porch in his underwear or the person sharing gallbladder surgery on speaker phone alongside your morning coffee.

            I wish that I could head to the nearest Waldomart and buy a six pack of happiness. My six pack might include:

1. A field of beautiful flowers, but not the allergy producing variety.
2. Sunshine, but not too hot.
3. Bug spray, but not the kind that causes cancer.
4. Wine, but without the sulfites that stuff up my sinuses.
5. A companion who doesn’t annoy me.

            Damn human nature, conditions and perfection are the hijackers of bliss.

            Isn’t the field of flowers a result of a combination of sunshine and rain?

            I must work towards true happiness which is the ability to sit in a barren field, alone, with nothing, under raindrops, and smile.