Thursday, April 9, 2015

Maturity (AM)

Sometimes I take note of something I am doing and pause for a moment to think wow, I am becoming really mature. I have these insights when I'm doing things like tidying the house, or putting the bins out or otherwise being 'responsible'. I had a really big one the other day when I took the pile of stuff I had left on the stairs 'to take up later', up the stairs. I've been stepping over piles like that my whole life.  My mum would always say, when I was little and my stair-pile leaving days had just begun, "it's probably easier to pick the stuff up and take it with you than climb over it". Well, I'm finally in a position to say no, Mum, it's not easier. But that doesn't matter, now that I've realised that in the long run it's probably better to take the stuff up and put it away and be done with it. Which is to say, now that I've matured. 

I feel pretty good about myself when these things happen but then something else will happen that makes me wonder whether I really have matured, or whether the maturity I've developed is helping much. I wait until Appleheart has gone outside to water the garden, or is doing something that will keep him out of the kitchen for a decent stretch before a take a teaspoon to the peanut butter/Nutino. Is that a sign of maturity? I don't think so. 
I've got a lot of examples of things like that. And from the maturity...what is it good for? files, here's something that happened the other day on the #86. 
I boarded it near home and it was pretty excited to see that there was a single seat available. I squeezed into it without a  second thought and then realised when I felt something wet against the back of my legs that something was wrong with this seat and everyone knew it. A lot of thoughts ran through my head. 
What is this gross thing I'm sitting in? Vomit? Wee? Something more gross? 
How badly soiled are my stockings? If I stand up and leave the seat, will all these fellow passengers who wisely avoided the seat think that I am an idiot, and see the stain on my stockings like some kind of scarlett letter? 

Those are just some of the thoughts. I was basically paralysed by indecision and ended up staying in the seat for the whole ride. One could argue I stayed in the seat because I ruled out a bunch of the grossest possibilities. It didn't smell like vomit or wee or anything grosser. My stockings just looked a bit wet, not discoloured or anything, but not completely clean either. It was restricted to my calves, not the part of the seat my bum was on. One could argue that, but one would be wrong. It was the indecision. Maturity offered me no solution. Except to allow me to basically forget all about it about 2 minutes after I sat down. That's something.

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