The Writing Spider Goes all Metaphysical on Your Ass

It’s only Wednesday and it’s been a strange week already.

Monday, one of my very closest friends told me her mother had passed away that morning very unexpectedly. C has a weird relationship with her family (I know, who doesn’t?) and I know she was totally unprepared for this. Her hometown is an hour away so I can’t really be a bigger help yet but I still feel very upset about it. I think she could use more support.

We managed to sell our jacked up Infiniti which involved an hour of driving and talking and going to get the title notorized, and also a stop at the buyers’ home so that one of them could use the bathroom. (We offered our own guest bath but her brother blurted, “SHE CAN’T USE OTHER PEOPLE’S TOILETS. IT’S A FEMALE THING.”) The car’s rear quarter panel was smooshed in by a woman talking on a cell phone and with a bunch of yappy kids in her mini van.

Another friend called to ask for a ride home after she locked her keys in her car.

Another friend needed my help with her Halloween costume, just a nip and tuck on the old Singer sewing machine.

One of our darling ferrets, Sgt. Pepper, is pretty sick with what is probably adrenal disease (common in ferrets) and I spent 3 hours at the vet yesterday having thought I could drop him off and being told, no, you must wait, which meant no breakfast for me which makes me spacey. And he’s still not well. As a ferret owner, you become prepared to lose them quickly. Their average lifespan is 6-7 years though we’ve only had one to pass that mark at 9 years. A couple years ago, we lost 3 in 3 months. It never gets easier to lose a pet, even if you know it will ease their suffering. I know he’s still around and still kicking, but its hard not to think of the potential situations.

Husband has been working on Improving our Home which means the house is a capital D Disaster which makes me uneasy. Also, I’ve hit my limit on Housecrap and will soon do a huge PURGE because we’re at the limit, I feel for excess STUFFAGE.

Deep breathing.

I’ve been listening to some motivational-type podcasts the last few weeks and trying to get straight in my mind what I’m here to do and what I want. I mean, in this world, in this lifetime. It comes down to writing. That’s it. Becoming a full time self-employed writer person and graphic recorder/facilitator. (Shameless plug: sarathompsonwrites.com) When all this stuff popped up this week, I had to wonder what the Universe is trying to tell me. Everything happens for a reason in my world and I’m still sorting out some of it, but my big epiphany was not that I want to do full-time writing/graphic work. That’s been floating around for a while.  It is that I’m in my current full-time job to learn some specific skills that I will take with me to make that dream even richer. I can’t quit my job right now. Husband doesn’t have a full-time gig and we need insurance and stability etc etc.

Thinking about this job as a stepping stone in my path is such a huge silver lining for me. After the weirdness of the week, after feeling unsure about this “new” job (after 5 months), I feel some stability that might prove to be an anchor in the coming time. I loathe wasting time and too much inefficiency makes me cringe so reminding myself that purpose exists for everything is a huge buoy for my spirit.

That concludes our walk down ponderous lane. We now return you to your regularly scheduled Internets. Stay tuned to The Writing Spider for more Thug Life adventures, witty commentary, and assorted and sundry words.

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3 Comments

  1. Condolences for your friend. My biological parents are very much alive (moved home to help with the family farm over 10 years ago–nobody to blame but myself) and I wonder how freaking weird that’s gonna be when they finally die. That sounds harsher than I mean it to be but I can’t think of a better (yes, a nicer but not better) way of putting it.

  2. Thanks. My friend sort of has the opposite situation…she lived in a tiny town and moved to Louisville several years ago. I know what you mean about freaking weird. I don’t think that sounds harsh, it WILL be freaking weird because they’ve always been there and so on.

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