Made Wiser

You'd think with all my time alone this week, I'd be doing a lot more thinking. Planning for the future. Introspection on where my life is going and where it's been.

Quite the opposite has taken place. Mostly I've been planning my next meal. At each meal I'm planning the next one and how far it will be to walk to or if I should take a shuttle and how much I should drink.

Creme Brulee. I ate this. All.


Basically, survival skills. Roughing it on the beaches of Fort Lauderdale have driven me to my basest needs and desires.


"Beer good"

They have taco? Me want taco.

Must have beer. Beer good.

Feet hurt. Must sit down.

Ooh! Put feet in ocean.

Stare at pretty ocean.

Wonder where I can get crab cake....

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I have not decided what I want to be when I grow up (which I think starts at age 37).

I have not decided if I should move to France (something I consider when I can't think of anything else to consider).

I have not decided what to have for breakfast. Because... frankly... I haven't had dinner yet. Breakfast decisions are made at dinner.

Trolls live here.

Yesterday I went to a nature preserve and took pictures of Gopher Tortoises and was chased out of the preserve by mosquitos (literally). I tried to take pictures of the dozens of geckos on the grounds of my hotel. And I drank almost a full bottle of wine while talking to WC in broken english. He thought this was hilarious and pointed out that I was doing okay because while the words together didn't make sense, most of them were multi-syllabic so I still sounded smart.

So I can't really tell you anything important. I've had no breakthroughs or epiphanies or life changing moments. I could go to the side of cliche and tell you to treasure these moments or stop and smell roses and whatnot. Those things are important and I've been doing nothing BUT those things. But I think you look to me for more, right?

I had breakfast next to some old dudes the other morning. There were 3 of them and they must have been in their late 60s-70s (or 80s... I don't do ages well) and definitely locals. They were making jokes about their wives and specifically about how their women won't let them dress themselves. "What does she mean I can't wear socks with sandals? I certainly can! I'm doing it now" and he and his friends roared with laughter.

Maybe that's the moral of the story. You CAN wear socks with sandals. And simply because someone tells you that you can't, you probably should.

My feet. Swallowed by an ocean.

OR maybe the moral of the story is to listen to the wise and considerate advice of your wives who don't want you to get made fun of.

OR maybe the moral is that you don't care if you're being made fun of and your feet are cold so fuck 'em and wear socks when you want to.

But you could also put regular shoes on if your feet are cold. Why with the sandals if you're covering your feet?

Finally, what the fuck are you guys thinking wearing sock with sandals? It simply doesn't make sense. If it's not appropriate weather for your feet to be bare, don't wear sandals.

There. My Floridian adventure draws to an end and you have become wiser because of it. I haven't because I already knew that socks and sandals are confusing, but you are enlightened and made wiser. And that's all that matters.