Here are some short pieces based on things that have happened in my life recently.
Exit
I got a call from my dog walker (though I didn't know it at the time as I didn't have his number saved in my phone, just the phone number for the dog walking service) and it started off with, "Hey I just walked Hoban, but..." But what? Did Hoban get bit? Did he bite you? Did my apartment catch fire? But no, he simply couldn't exit my building. As bizarre of a pickle as this was, I quickly breathed a sigh of relief before instructing him on how to properly exit the building: "You have to push the lever and pull the door hard--like you're going to break it." I reassured him that I'd stay on the phone with him until he got out and, luckily, he did, but it was still a concerning problem. I wonder what the dog walker thought. Had he gone crazy, he'd used this door before? Had I planned to trap him? Had the world cursed the door or, worse, him? None of these things were true of course, but the fact remained that my building had become a trap from which you couldn't exit. I submitted a work order and the lever was promptly replaced with one you pull (which I was not informed of so I spent some time trying to pull it and feeling trapped myself). Now, you can safely exit my building with ease.
Glob
To me, glob is a tasty word. A delicious word. A tantalizing word. I thought of this as I stared at a glob of melted cheddar cheese in a breakfast skillet at the diner near my office. I thought of it again after I smeared jelly on my biscuit (that came with the skillet--an excellent deal, really). I wondered why I loved the word so much. It's close to blob, which I don't have such fond feelings about. I tend to think of myself as a blob and in the ooky (is that a word?) and self-conscious way. Something flabby and unflattering: a blob. But a glob was something I hunted for in my food because the globs had all the best flavor. How could I transition from a blob to a glob? I certainly seemed to think it was by consuming more globs as I kept eating and eating and eating (you are what they eat as you say), but my belly just grew into a bigger blob. Next, I suppose, I'll try looking at my reflection in the mirror and saying "I am a glob" (it feels more true than most affirmations like "I am a goddess" because if I was truly a goddess my life would presumably be much easier). Say it with me, "I am a glob."
Planning
I'm a planner, it's who I am, it's what I do. It's why I swipe left on guys who talk about wanting someone "spontaneous" or who is "down for spontaneous adventures." I am not spontaneous and I wouldn't get along great with someone who either is that or wants that. Because I'm a planner, my brain often jumps to trying to plan for every scenario. Now some of these are scenarios that will never happen, but most are for things that will eventually happen. This is how I found myself wondering if I should start planning my will or my father's funeral. Eventually, we'll both die and things need to carry on. If I died right now, I know where my life insurance would go (because I had to select beneficiaries), but what about the rest of my (meager) assets? What about my student debt? What about Hoban? My dad is very sick and someday, sooner than I'd like, he will die. What should my brother and I do? How should we celebrate his life? I worry that I'll be asked things I don't know like what was his favorite poem or song? Or, things I'm not prepared for like would I like to write a eulogy (aren't you a writer?)? Or things that I'll be too overwhelmed to think about like who would we even invite to the funeral (or memorial service or whatever)? So my plan is to start planning these things, morbid as that may be. I'm hoping that the planning will give me a sense of ease because if there's a plan, then there is something to do when the world falls apart.
(Prompt by Kimisha Cassidy)
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