So Spoiled

Its another Wonderful Wednesday and time to be grateful for how darned spoiled I am.

It is a beautiful summer day, and listening to NPR this morning, I heard stories of the struggles of Syrian refugees.  Here I am in the land of plenty, and taking full advantage.  I live in a home where I feel completely safe.  I feel no need to be armed.  I feel no fear to walk down the street, not even at night in most neighborhoods, in most anywhere in the country.   I can say whatever I want and express any opinion no matter how many others disagree with me, I don’t even have to be particularly nice about it.  Being nice helps if you want people to stay and listen, because where I live we can just walk away and stop listening.   These rights extend to social media, where I have blocked several sites from even appearing on my home page.

Another way I am spoiled is with good medical care.  Despite ongoing political wrangling over medical care, and the rare  published statistic on how Americans may not have the best health care in the word, I have grown accustomed to having a pill to cure most any ill readily available.  When a pill can’t provide a cure, a fairly safe surgical procedure usually will.  I get down right testy when a solution to any health problem is delayed.  I am old enough to remember how polio sent fear into my parents, and measles mumps and rubella were taken very seriously.  I remember the vaccination party where my friends and I were the first to get our sugar cubes as soon as they became available.  So I have a little annoying cough.  There is a vaccination for those scary diseases, and there is a pill, ointment, or wash for most things that people just had to suffer with in the past.

I am also spoiled with a multitude of pets.  Well, currently four pets.  My newest pet (notice how possessive I am) is Shadow who keeps me company while I write, watch TV, or sleep.  Each animal has their place.  Penny, the elderly lady of the house, sits at my side while I read or watch TV, with Shadow in her place either on my lap or on the back of the sofa near my head.  Brutus Buckeye’s place is Hubby’s lap.  Blue, our other cat, walks alone, except for requiring daily petting, and someone to open the door for him.

Yes, I really am spoiled.  I just expect that this is how life should be.  True I did plan and work for what I wanted, and I protect what I have.   It is difficult to believe not everyone is as lucky.