Bus Rides and Gift Horses [2011/11/28]

By the time I post this I’ll be back in the dangerous land of Connecticut, where the wild traffic jams run rampant, albeit very, very slowly. My fellow travelers and I will have trammeled our way o’er the hellish terrain of I-95 and through the barren wastes of Jersey, until at last we collapsed, battered and fatigued near unto death, on the sacred, alma-matrical ground of Wesleyan.

As I write this, however, I’m sitting on a bus with about 48 other people and not nearly enough leg space, the air permeated by the subtle scent of our combined odors and the snacks everyone brought on the bus with them.

I don’t hate traveling. I am often very fond of traveling, in point of fact. However, A) it is very easy to complain about traveling, and B) I am currently running on about 6 hours of sleep after only having been able to be at home for three full days, and C) I have about 3 square feet of personal space. Or, I suppose, 12 cubic feet, most of which is up and down.

On the other hand, I’m in a fairly good mood right now. I’m not entirely sure why, but I plan to just roll with it. Good moods are like the proverbial gift horse.

Funny thing about that gift horse: I eventually realized that the whole point of the proverb is that you’re not supposed to be too nitpicky about gifts. It’s not as if you’re buying the horse, in which case you would want to make sure that you’re getting the most value for your money. Instead, rather than being +horse and –money, you are +horse with exactly the same amount of money—so don’t fuss about it. It also insults the giver.

On the other hand, I will always prefer my original interpretation of the proverb, which was that if you spent too long looking a gift horse in the mouth, it would eventually kick you in the knees.

[below the cut: My break, Humpty Dumpty, and me unfortunately breaking a promise to you.]