let time linger

In the last ten years of my life, I can say there have been possibly three times that I have been fully content. It doesn't happen to me often. I know this is a flaw; I am aware.

I have always been impatient; I have always sought instant gratification. I have always been counting down days for something - something better, something more fun, something that was not what I was doing right then, something different. The last decade of my life has been an experience of impatiently pushing for the next best thing, a better time in life, a stronger feeling of contentment and peace. I have spent 10 years yearning for time to pass quickly, wishing to just get through this part and on to the next phase, which surely must be the life that I have been wanting. Or, at the very least, just get through life in general; just get to the end.

But something in me has shifted this last year. I feel a peace and contentment with where I am in my life and what I am doing with my life, which is a new neighborhood for me. And now I am suddenly aware of my life moving forward at a pace that I am not quite comfortable with anymore. I have gone from counting down days and wishing time to move more quickly to holding on to days and savoring the time spent looking forward to something important. I have moments of brief panic when I think about how my life is moving so very quickly. I just know I am going to wake up tomorrow and be 80! Maybe it's the weddings and babies and graduations and relocations and gaining and losing and change, change, change. It all feels like too much at times.

I am feeling the need to be intentional, to savor this time, enjoy this time. I want to work at actually living each day of the next ten years (maybe just a good percentage of days would be more realistic). I want to remember, and I want it to be worth remembering. I need time to linger just a little while longer.

the spider pact

I live in my sister's basement. For the vast majority of the time, this is a grand arrangement. Perhaps it's a bit chilly at times, but that's nothing that a sweatshirt and a space-heater can't remedy. And no, there are no windows, but really, it's Indiana - the sun doesn't shine all that often anyways. And on the plus side, it's private, I have a bathroom of my own, and the niece and nephew think it's super cool to come visit me - usually in 5-10 minute increments, which works out well for everyone since Gage's favorite game is "break Abbey's stuff" when he is down here.

There is one small, little thing that I don't appreciate about the basement, and that would be the creepy arachnids that enjoy a nice cool basement environment too. I don't see them too often; well, honestly, I try not to look for them because there's a pretty darn good chance that I would actually find one. Unnecessary. However, on occasion they invite themselves into my shower, try to skitter across my bedroom floor unnoticed, or even have the audacity to slink down their nasty little webby strings right in front of me. None of these actions are permitted in my basement. I have made a pact with the spiders. It's a little cooperative; they agreed to the pact as well, so I'm pretty sure it's legit and all.

For example, if the Sammy Spider chooses to stay in the corner of the ceiling or nestled up close to the baseboard, he has every right to remain untouched and confident that he will live another day to spin another web. Sammy can even roam about freely as long as he stays clear of certain areas, namely, my line of vision. If he so chooses to enter into the area deemed as "human only - spiders enter at your own risk," the peace pact is instantly rendered null and void. So, if Sammy decides to visit me in the shower, he must be squashed. If Sammy wants to make his presence known and crawl down the wall while I am standing right there, Sammy must have a death wish, and so be it. I have no issue with getting my spider squash on. Plus, I happen to believe there is a serious upside to spider squashing ---

When you smoosh a spider, the spider dies, obviously. Dead spiders leave what I have coined a "squashed spider scent" that all other spiders can sense. They are very scensty creatures and all. "Squashed spider scent" remains in the location where the spider was murdered (he should have followed the rules; the rules are very simple) and serves as a warning to other spiders that if they choose to roam in that region, death is eminent. It's like being a martyr, only they are spider martyr, and they really didn't even need to be a martyr in the first place if they had just stayed put in the corner. On the upside, I think it's quite noble, warning your spider friends through your death scent and all. Ah yes, the noble basement spider, indeed.