In 1605, Sir Francis Bacon said, “Man seeketh in society comfort, use and protection.”
I am not entirely sure what that means*, but any quote with the word “seeketh” in it must be true, right?
We’re going to ignore the quest for use and protection, and just focus on comfort.
People, in general, strive for comfort. Be it a full stomach, a warm bed, or writing a blog post unshaven and wearing Superman boxers. You know, hypothetically speaking.
There are those that find comfort in others.
“Thou art all the comfort,
The Gods will diet me with.”
Is there a topic that dude DIDN’T have an opinion on?
Some people will even get married to gain the comfort of having someone. Which, to me, seems like throwing lit matches in your gas tank because your car has a flat tire, but whatever. We gotta keep those cats who make the little plastic people for the tops of wedding cakes in business.
I discovered what true comfort was when I was just a wee little Pete.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t understanding. It wasn’t even that warm snuggly feeling you got when you wet your pants.
The key to true comfort was, and is….
Blanket and chair forts.
I think this began when I was an even littler Pete and figured out that by hiding under the covers of my bed at night, I could effective elude the Boogie Man AND the monsters that lived amongst the dust and hockey cards under my bed.
These horrifying creatures would never notice the lump in my bed. Apparently in my mind, while they could easily devour me, their depth perception was for shit.
Older Pete used a similar logic when he would date a crazy woman and expect her not to be, you know, crazy.
Hmmm. I’m not sure that logic is similar at all.
Screw it, I’m on a roll…
Hiding under my covers was somewhat limiting. (Trust me, I tried it last week.) So, the next logical step was to drape a blanket over two chairs sitting back to back to one another.
I should note that it could never be a pink blanket. I was a very macho kid. However, I was totally okay with it being a Sesame Street sheet. I suspect that was because The Count was on the sheet. He’s like a cross between The Fonze and Mr. Spock.
Come on. That’s pretty gangster right there.
So, in my fort I would sit. I’d be wearing Montreal Canadiens jammies and chomping on a Mars bar. And, most likely, I’d also be hiding from my parents because I somehow made my sister cry. (I tried hiding behind a rocking chair after splitting her head open with a baseball bat. That wasn’t overly effective…)
And that is what I think true comfort is.
Others will probably tell you it is something different. And they would be wrong. And quite possible a little…[Please note that Peter made a “drinky drinky” motion here.]
Though I suppose that we all have to find what works for each of us.
We have to find our own sources of comfort in this crazy world.
Hmm. I wonder if they make grown-up Montreal Canadian jammies.
(*I totally know what the Bacon quote means, I just really wanted to make the “seeketh” joke. It’s true. Shut up.)