Where have you guys been? I looked around and *POUF* you were gone!
Okay, I've been slacking. My tight focus seems to have gone to Hell in a handbasket. Too many things pulling me in too many directions, and damnit I've missed this place. So, I'm back.
*dusting off the lapels, making sure the crease in my trousers is crisp*
I want to tell you about the spiders today, so if you're queasy then you might want to, oh, I don't know, stop now. Because you see, every person in my office (I shan't say "woman" because that'd be sexist but they are all ladies and are all panic-stricken at the sight of a bug) where was I? Anyway, they all freak right out at the sight of a spider, or roach, or anything with more than two legs that is smaller than a breadbox. Or snakes, which makes me wonder about their sexual lives.
My boss hollered bloody murder today, and I walked over to where she was dancing on tiptoes, pointing at a slightly less tan part of the carpet. Said bit of carpet had black stripes and eight legs, and honestly I had to look pretty hard to see it. When I (yet again) failed to crush it into oblivion for her and instead tried to coax it onto my hand she ran screaming down the hall and I continued to try and rescue my little buddy, finally ending up sort of herding it out the front door.
At one point during the ensuing struggle of colossus versus microscopic survivor the spider bumped into my fingers. The little spider was perhaps in toto the size of a dime, and might have weighed all of a tiny portion of a gram, but it bumped my finger hard enough in its headlong attempt to get away that I could feel it--a sort of gentle tap, at the very edge of sensation. The briefest feeling of bristles and flesh. I smiled a bit and filed that sensation away in the same drawer in my mind as the sound of a butterfly's wings flapping and the first time a wild bird landed on me.
I'm about 99% sure I have the new job. Right now I'm in Waiting Mode, waiting for someone to call me and tell me to report for training May 1st or to tell me not to bother and stop planning to steal as many office supplies as I can fit in a saddlebag. I worry, though, that when I'm gone all the crickets and spiders (there were two today, one twice the size of my first tiny friend) and millipedes and dirt daubers that end up inside the office, panicked and confused will be crushed without a single thought. I think about the rat snakes that will lose their heads to a shovel blow without a passing idea that perhaps that snake would keep the mice in the attic at a lower population if it were left alive. I think of the senseless waste of all those tiny lives.
I don't even have to mention the two to four trains a day that I won't see anymore.
But then I balance my stress levels (decreased, yes, but still present) and my burning desire to have a job that only has a handful of duties rather than my duties and half of my co-worker's duties involved in it against those little sparks of life. I think about sitting at a new desk behind a refurbished laptop in my spare bedroom, converted into a HIPAA-compliant office, looking out my big window at the squirrels in the front yard, and I think about hanging another bird feeder outside that window, so I can watch the wrens and the mourning doves come and go. I think about the spiders and so forth that will be tenderly captured and released from here, and I smile a little bit, and it's easier to move forward.
I was going to say something about this being a transition period, but all of life is a transition period, isn't it? A young man I'd never met before died this morning while trying to change a tire on his Suburban--a car struck him at 60 miles an hour as he stood at the back of his truck to get the spare out. He never regained consciousness. I doubt he ever knew what happened. One moment struggling with getting the spare out and wondering if he'd be late for work and maybe thinking about seeing his girlfriend this weekend and the next he was crushed to a pulp by some fucktard too busy with something else to watch where they were driving. I think about those little bugs, all facets of Life being crushed out of existence with the same off-handed thoughtlessness. I think about how unfair it all is.
I like to think that one day I'll be carried before The Life-Giving Force by a thick carpet of spiders and millipedes and lizards and wasps and serpents and honey bees.