People in my office walk way too fast. That is, when I’m in front of them. I admit I’m not the fastest guy in the world. I didn’t get schooled at some major university where I had to cross the campus in less than four minutes, nor did I ever excel in gym class by any stretch of the imagination. And after my second back surgery my left leg lost some nerve function, which accounts for my very slight limp. But for the life of me, I don’t see what could be so urgent within the office that they need to blast up behind me with the velocity of a jet-propelled cheetah.
Of course, the opposite is sometimes true. I’ve postulated on this before: any group of people will travel at a fraction of the rate of the slowest member of that group, the denominator of that fraction being directly proportional to the number of members in the group. These are the groups I get stuck behind, particularly when I am in a hurry, limping quickly to a meeting or whatnot.
And then of course there’s the group that moves through a doorway and then just stops, effectively sealing the passage, immune to any social cues given off by myself or others who might wish to pass.
I have come to the conclusion that my family is in the running for a prize in waste basket stuffing. They are virtuosos in the art of putting garbage in the basket under the sink, piling it high and deep, but with a stability that defies explanation. Until I open the cabinet door to add some garbage, at which point the entire contents of the waste basket explodes outward to land at my feet. It’s truly a marvel; I really don’t know how they do it.
I have a couple of choices: I can reach in and ram everything down like a trash compactor while muttering vague threats of bodily harm at anyone who might be within earshot, or I can pull the whole thing out, find the edges of the bag (which have almost invariably been crammed down inside the basket and covered with all manner of detestable detritus), cinch it up and haul it outside – while muttering vague threats of bodily harm, etc. In either case, I must also perform the function of picking up the stray bits that managed to fly off the top of the Dr Seuss-style garbage stack. While muttering vague threats…
One day, I shall meet my demise, and then where will they be? No doubt figuring out how they can raise the roof and create the scaffolding necessary to continue their mound of trash ever skyward. I’m not sure if any of them ever considered the possibility of taking it out themselves.
Michael is doing really well in swimming, and in basketball. He’s loving both of them. They keep him active, they provide him with focus, they teach him how to work in a competitive team environment. I’m so glad he has these opportunities. I think the things he’s learning now will really make a difference in years to come.
This year we won’t be making any grand vacation travel plans, but will wrap up some much-needed home improvement projects: our new pantry, the downstairs bathroom, the backyard fence on the north side, and that blessed playstructure – the one I would have been done with MANY YEARS AGO had it not been for a CERTAIN NEIGHBOR who demanded its destruction. But I’m not bitter.
Such is life right now.