Stand and Wait

Tuesday and therapy.

After, we had dinner with Judi and Paul, at a tapas place here in the valley. It was good--we ate way too much and I had a couple of sake-based lime and cucumber martinis, which were very, very nice--but the chairs in the restaurant were hellishly uncomfortable (so much so that they would probably keep me from going back there).

I came home, ate a brownie that I didn't need, and went to bed.

Here's a poem that I love.
It's by John Milton, whose work I studied a long, long time ago:

Sonnet 19: When I consider how my light is spent

When I consider how my light is spent,

   Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

   And that one Talent which is death to hide

   Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

   My true account, lest he returning chide;

   “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”

   I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need

   Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best

   Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed

   And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:

   They also serve who only stand and wait.