The Socialist took yesterday off from work so he could take care of arranging to get his car fixed. I was rather impressed with his insurance company - less than twelve hours after he got hit his car was in for estimates. The Socialist, of course, spent most of the day admiring his half-empty glass rather than his half-full one however. The car is brand-new, and now it will never be the same. The insurance company didn't call yesterday when they said they would (turns out their computers were down and they didn't have the full estimate yet to give him). Pennsylvania drivers suck. He hates his life. The only reason he's on the East Coast is because of me.

He was successfully driving me insane, and enough was enough.

I told him that, if he was not happy here, then I was insufficient reason for staying. No person should be trapped in a life they despise simply because they're doing it for "love". That wasn't love, and I didn't want that on my conscience.

He then replied that wasn't what he meant. He was depressed over the car, he's worried sick about my illness, and since he can't rant about my illness he's taking it out on everything else he can. He said he couldn't be like me, looking for the best of the situation and acting like Mary Sunshine. I asked him why not?

I told him that I have been given a gift that few other people are lucky enough to get. The mass of people go through life refusing to think about death. They ignore it, because that's the easiest way to deal with it. They don't say things they ought to say, they don't do things they ought to do, they don't make plans they ought to plan. When death comes, they are unprepared. There's no second chance to speak the words, do the things that they were putting off until later, make the arrangements they always intended to get around to making.

I, on the other hand, had life serve me a subpoena. I'm on notice. I've been given a chance to get things taken care of that need taking care of. I'm getting a will made up. I'm getting things sorted so that a complete stranger can go through my files and find what's needed, if necessary. I'm thinking in terms of taking a few trips sooner rather than later.

If I get through all this, and live to a ripe old age, I'm still doing nothing I'd regret. If I don't then I've had this opportunity to get things done. I told the Socialist that if he couldn't see this as a gift, then the whole point of going through all of this is wasted.

I was going to write about other things today as well, but I think that perhaps this should stand on its own.