Hospice in Our Mid 40’s – Group Stupid

I wore sweatpants out the other day. Felt a bit self conscious at first. Then I looked around…

Everyone was wearing sweatpants. 

My kids call blue jeans hard pants. Comfort is King here in Couch Town. Pass the chips…

Personal reasonings, backstories aside, enduring discomfort is the only honest way forward. Easy way out, lazy like a summer breeze, is delivering us hospice in our mid 40’s. 

I’m 47 years old. Picture in your mind, the average 47 year old. What type of image pops up? Someone fit? Did they have a spark in their eye? Were they in front of a tv drinking beer?

Just trying to ride it out best we can. Apathy like a lemon drop. Fear-naps and streaming. This is not longevity. 

Light your couch on fire and dance naked around the flames.

Comfort is the Devil.