Creative Ramblings Processing Life
Answer to Random Question
You're trapped in well with a goat and a slinky. Describe how you will get out. Thankfully, the well is one of those really old ones that are made up of large stones, and are no longer filled with water. There is an infestation of earthworms, but all things considered the worst aspect is the fact that the goat gives off a miasma very strong and not very pleasant. But, they are valuable animals, so I use the slinky to attach to goat to myself, and climb up the rocks-- which are like a ladder from Hell. Sadly, the slinky is not quite long enough to stretch until I get to the top, so I wedge it into the side as far up as it goes. I finish climbing out--tired and breathless, and search for the goat's owner. I find him, celebrating that the insurance money from his goat was more than his goat was worth. He was upset that I had found his goat, ruining his get-rich-quick scheme. This makes me angry- so I plot. I get a rope, climb back down to the slinky, attach the rope to the slinky, and pull the goat out. I then throw the heartless owner into the well, with his stupid cash. He cried. I'll check in a couple days to see if he made it out.
I am not a detail person. This is not a shocking revelation to most people in my life, nor to me, but moving has once again thrust it upon my conscience that this is not something that I am naturally gifted at. I can handle details, but I have a hard time seeing them until I trip over them and they become a minor crisis in my life. Which is very exhausting for all those in my life, including myself. My poor friends and family have had to listen to me whine about how stressed I was about moving. I coerced them into helping me move both my stuff, and that of my roommates who were out of the country. (Thanks Mom, Dad, RJ, Michael, and Daniel!) Little things kept catching me off guard, and overwhelming me.
This seems strange to me. Major crisis? Let's all just keep calm and get through it together. Relationship problems? Sure they're not fun, but they don't incapacitate me. Blood and giving first aid? I have to admit I find it all intriguing. Having to transfer utilities? Makes me cry.
Hanging over all of this was the uncertainty of change, and the fear that life was not going to be fun. That we had made a mistake. That my roommates wouldn't like what I had done with the place. That my world was going to implode and it would all be my fault. For two weeks I went about life with a heaviness in my chest, feeling manic-depressive as the weight would occasionally lift causing giddiness, and then come crashing back down.
I moved a week ago today. And a week ago tomorrow I realized that the weight was gone. Everything was okay. Sunday Meagan* came back to the country, and she liked the way the apartment was set up. And Monday we hung out. We've been roommated now for 6 months, and in all that time we had never spent time together in any significant way. And we got to run errands and get coffee together, and talk, and laugh, and realize that it is a crying shame that we hadn't done this before now.
My new apartment which for so long felt like a weight threatening to crush me, now feels like home. What a blessing.
*When I ran spell check Meagan was not found in the dictionary. They suggested to make her name "magma" or "muezzin". And for some reason I found that inordinately funny.