It seems like the word 'content' is getting a bad rap lately, like it implies a lack of ambition or gumption. What should be getting a bad rap is not taking the perfect moments of contentment when you get the chance. I think you can be content and still have dreams and aspirations, plus you can ditch the constant requirements to keep up with everything.
Recently I saw a photograph of an old woman with gray hair and wrinkles sitting in front of a window with a house plant behind her, reading a book with a cat on her lap. That's exactly how I imagine myself when I'm old.
It's not to far off from the present.
The gray hair and wrinkles are developing nicely on their own. The only wild card is the house plant.
Professor Longbottom, just barely a year old, is still more kitten than cat and can really tear apart a plant. She attacks them shreds, and this resilient plant just keeps sending new leaves out of the top. House plant care will have to develop as the cats and I age together.
Also, in my old lady fantasy the book reading is taking place on a house boat while Trent and I are circumnavigating the globe. The cat will be named Mrs. Chippy and I'll navigate with a sextant while Trent confirms my calculations with hologram longitude or whatever people are using in 20whateveryear. Being wrinkle free in no way factors into the scene.
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