What I Believe

What I believe

 

I promised something new in my blog, and here it comes. I’ll be sharing posts titled What I Believe, interspersed with ordinary odds and ends of my life.

Breaking my neck—degenerative discs and dissolving vertebrae that resulted in emergency surgery—altered my life. For more than a year now I’ve contemplated how this experience relates to those before and following, and how my beliefs have shifted and been shaped over more than half a century.

   

I’m someone who has always sought meaning in my life. I’ve always wondered how “this” matters to “that,” as if I’m trying to fit puzzle pieces together while many of them are missing, some will never be found, and the overall picture is basically clear in a few places, but completely fuzzy in others.

One of my basic beliefs centers on belief, and how what I believe glues life together making it what it is for me, personally. I have an overall “life is good, life is grand and life goes on…” attitude or belief. I seldom panic, even though I’ve been known to stress out at times over trivial things.  

My beliefs, along with some events and experiences I’ve encountered that have shaped them, will show up in future posts. Below is a very incomplete list of what you might expect:

• I believe my environment matters (you’ve seen plenty of that already!)
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• I believe hobbies and interests matter
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• I believe relationships matter
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• I believe in exploring and adventures
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• I believe children matter
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• I believe in silence, and in speaking up
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• I believe in self-care
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• I believe respect for all living things matters
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• I believe helping others matters
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• I believe learning matters
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• I believe in God
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• I believe in taking responsibility
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• I believe beauty matters
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• I believe in families
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• I believe words matter enormously!
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• I believe personal dress and grooming matters
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• I believe forgiveness matters
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• I believe in praying
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• I believe truth matters
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• I believe in work
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• I believe in gratitude
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• I believe choices affect consequences
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• I believe in laughter
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• I believe thoughts matter
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• I believe thinking matters
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• I believe in angels
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• I believe kindness matters
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• I believe money matters
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• I believe in light and darkness
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• I believe happiness is a choice

 

Wow, that’s a lot to believe in, and that’s only a partial list! I know everyone has a lengthy list of beliefs, more than we usually think we do, because we seldom start listing them. (It’s kind of fun—try it!) I have two basic goals as I share some of my beliefs along with a few personal thoughts and experiences surrounding them that have given my beliefs greater power, more meaning, changed them slightly or significantly, or lowered their importance in my life. You can see that beliefs—mine—aren’t stagnant, and I don’t think they were ever meant to be! They are living, growing, changing and viable. If not, I’d imagine life would be dull, flat and lack power and potent meaning. So here’s why I’m sharing some of my beliefs:

First: Writing my beliefs and sharing them will help me solidify what I believe as I analyze and express them.

Second: I hope what I share adds another angle to your perspective on these topics—perspectives you might never see unless someone shares their views with you. 

I’m already laughing at myself over this because I know from experience that a few years down the road I’ll probably roll my eyes over some of the posts and laugh at how shallow some of my beliefs were, or how poorly I expressed them. Oh, well. That’s part of learning and growing and posting on the internet. I know I’ll move beyond the plateau I’m currently relaxing on, and cheer when I reach a higher one. That said, I’m not too worried whether I’m tiny mouse-sized in one belief and elephant-sized in another right now. Both may reverse over time. 

Like a lot of people, I love to read, listen and learn. I take classes, read books, regularly keep up on a few favorite blogs, research and experience things personally. Among it all I love the commonality and differences between all of us. We all cross paths with others and sometimes travel a few steps or miles together. Often we weave in and out through life’s travels. This blog is part of that journey.

Come and enjoy the path with me as I share What I Believe. Comment if you’d like. Ask me if you want to know about something specific. 

Welcome to What I believe

The Key to Happiness is in My Pocket!

I have the key to happiness!
Tucked in my pocket.
Let me tell you about this sweet little key:

By now usually everyone knows some days are just a blip in the whole revolution of time:

Sun up. Sun down. Move on to the next day.
Some days are better, like supernovas, star bursts, and aurora borealis. So bright and fun you can’t wait for tomorrow.
Then there are black hole days. Like this morning:

Good morning? Hardly! I’m barely awake and I already realize I haven’t followed through on my most brilliant idea of the century, therefore, there is no ten gallon vat of icy cold Dr. Pepper hiding under my bed and rigged up with a flexible straw ending two inches from my lips.  

In retaliation I pretended to sleep as I hide under the covers. That couldn’t last forever, so eventually I peeked out. Yikes! I was forced to crawl out, and felt like a giant slug during the process. Kind of scary—knowing something slimy resided in my cute little bedroom. But I was forced to get up before I shed that illusion because there were important things to do. 

I fetched a broom and smashed an itty-bitty spider scribbling invisible webs across my ceiling.

Rule #1 for spider smashing above beds: Make the bed first! If not, you’re guaranteed to miss and without fail the spider will swing down and scamper into hiding somewhere in the folds of your covers. If so, you will never find it. Never! Rule #2: Wash all your bedding. Power wash using the hot, hot, mega-hot cycle, and then triple wash. Even if you did find the spider in the blankets, the washing routine still applies because little spidery footprints left behind prevent sound sleeping. Rule #3: For an easier life remember to obey rule #1.

I heeded rule #1 because of past experiences, which meant I caught that 8-footed little critter before he hit my comforter, eliminating the need to search blankets and sheets or do laundry. Next I headed to the shower to de-slug myself. Have  you ever noticed how the mind is a powerful thing? I had showered before bed, setting myself up for a fresh as spring morning attitude, but my brain misplaced that memo and slipped in that sluggy imagery. Adding in a creepy-crawly encounter first thing didn’t help, so there wasn’t anything else to do but wash everything away in a steamy shower.

Chipper and happy again, I mean, awake now, but still trailing sluggishness, I tackled job #1 for the day: electronics. I should have known disaster awaited, but no, my silky, doubly-clean hair and perky smile were clueless, totally forgetting me and electronics are an unpleasant mix. Always have been.

Ten-zillion tears later, and after an intense make-up repair job, me and my repaired Nano playlist grabbed my car key and headed out. I plugged that sleek little musical baby in, turned the volume up full blast and zipped over to the hardware store and asked for bling. The cute girl behind the counter who usually sold sledge hammers (something I didn’t need this morning, thanks to my daughter and her computer savvy, which spared my Nano, and possibly the home computer) led me to the key machine. A minute later she delivered exactly what I wanted for a mere $2.99.  She apologized for the astronomical price. What?!? $2.99?  You’re kidding, right? Last time I felt like spending my way toward a smile I refrained. In fact, I usually do. Today was one exception, but last time I felt so inclined I informed my husband I hadn’t blown $149 at Hobby Lobby, hadn’t spent $5000 at the furniture store, and never plunked down over $25,000 at the Jeep dealer for a shiny new red Cherokee. I hadn’t even spent a penny, in fact. I just stayed home and away from the internet and worked off the undesired spending energy by scrubbing something.

Funny how my newly purchased song never played during my ten minutes in the car. What song, you ask? Bobby McFerrin’s Don’t Worry Be Happy. 

Somewhere on the black pavement between bling and strawberries (they alter attitudes when accompanied with whipped cream), I considered my upcoming blog changes and what I really wanted to do today. Being an experienced procrastinator, I have brought you this blog entry today instead of the first installment of my new blog because of my new key. Blame it on bling. Anyway, I expect I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning up posts I’m preparing for the near future, unless my realtor calls and offers to show me a million dollar home selling for a quarter that price, in which case, there goes the day and the family budget.

So here’s today’s wisdom: Life is a bowl of strawberries and cream, but only after you’ve chased off spiders and slugs, battled the great Apple, added bling, and tried to whistle with Bobby.  

Life Changes

Life Changes. 
Just ask anyone who has lived a few years on our dear planet earth and they'll agree. Nothing ever stays the same. It's forever decaying, growing, evolving, ending, beginning, or in some other way changing for the--I won't say better or worse--so I'll say, for the different.

This past weekend I focused on three major changes in my environment:

1. Hang curtains
2. Hang pictures, clocks and mirrors
3. Empty the living space of every cardboard box

Those were major steps to accomplish my main goal which was much broader and had greater meaning:

Turn my Pleasant Little Palace

into inhabitable space

The days of eye clutter, floor clutter and narrow trails needed to end, and a welcoming and comforting atmosphere begged to take root. I wasn't focused on decor ruling supreme, but in taming our living space so a different type of living took place. 

Life is infinitely more valuable than the space it's lived in, although I believe living spaces shape our lives and are infinitely important.

*

So up went 3 curtain rods and the cute new JCPenney curtains I had to wait an eternity for. A whole 5 days actually, which is very long when you're excited. Of course, that meant lots of measuring, planning, choosing, shopping, climbing the ladder, searching for tools, consulting the budget, and making holes in walls.

It all paid off. I love the bedroom curtains. They sift incoming light. All the copy I read about curtains claim they "filter" light, but mine stepped out of the narrow curtain rut they'd been thrust into and actually sift light. I have no idea how these panels became so unique, but after they were hung they did their own little shift-to-sift thing. I love them and their personality. The front porch light that never blinks off after dark is now sifted and I'm no longer fooled into thinking it's morning at 1:28 AM, and again at 3:04, and once more at 4:10. See why I love these happy little sifting curtains?!? I now sleep! All night! And very restfully. They are magical sifting curtains.

 

Life changes. That was my thesis statement, not curtains. Yes, I've changed addresses lately, but that's not my focus either. You see, it's really easy to set up a new home base. All you do is box things up, unbox things, toss in a table and a few chairs, add breakfast, lunch and dinner fixings, include a dishwasher, open a closet and load it up, add a few other essentials, hang curtains, include your family, and you're good to go, right? Moving is easy! (I never could have said that 2 weeks ago!)

My blog has changed. It feels like it's morphed into a moving/decorating caught-up-in-home-and-style type blog. That wasn't my intention, and yet, it's okay because that's what I've just lived through. I always planned on it being Running & Writing my life. Running was a huge part of my life when I began. I did the foot pounding runs of a true runner. I loved it and lived for it. Of course, I did lots of other living, but I planned each day around that activity. Not that I ran every day, but that running was specific, planned, and also spontaneous. Always.

On non-running days I did other big things. Those were days when 3 hours of my life were not consumed by running. (No, I didn't run for 3 hours. Instead, I goofed off, got dressed, ran for 60-75 minutes or more, cooled down for a while, goofed off some more, and before I knew it, 3 hours had passed before I returned to what some refer to as real life.) In all, I generally allowed myself a nice big window of time in order to run for an hour or so and soak up sunshine, rain, snow and joy. 

But I also run my life. Almost always I use a day planner. I haven't elevated it to dictatorship level, only adviser, and plan to keep it that way. If I feel crabby I close it. More crabby, and I chuck it aside. Once I heaved it across the room and swore I'd burn it. Yeah, right. An organized person can't burn a day planner, and that flutter of paper wings knew that as it flew toward the wall. It laughed at me as it hit and tumbled to the floor where it lay waiting for me to retrieve it later.

Writing has hit the wall a few times. Not from a writer's block type hitting, but from having no time to create, or being too distracted, or too busy, or too involved in other important and imperative things I live for.

Those two things (no more running & not writing) combined like a double whammy and forced some big changes in my life. Now that almost all the curtains are hung and I'm not contemplating painting or upholstering anything, and the boxes aren't bugging me, I have time to write--mixing one of my favorite addictions back into my life. 

For a long time now I've been considering what I'll write. I'm contemplating branching out. I'm not ready to dive into technical writing. I can't picture myself heading toward sci-fi. I'm not interested in some genres. Hmmm. 

Expect some changes coming up...

Probably not my voice, but possibly.

Genre. Yep, most likely.

No, it won't be shelter.

Could begin with completing novels and polishing others.

But maybe not.

Stay tuned...



 

I'm Really Not Disappointed, But I Am...

Things happen. Not always the best or funnest kinds of things. If you know that, and live with it as part of your reality, it doesn't hurt as much when disappointments spring out and grab you unawares.

I got a few disappointments today. It started with a trip to a nearby mall to visit Sears to return a dishwasher part. I was informed I needed to take it to their parts store, but they're not open on Wednesday. Huh? A business other than a dentist closes mid-week? There was nothing I could do but live with it and plan another long day of errands across town. (I'll include something fun and rewarding when I venture out next time. Like new shoes, or a Dr. Pepper, or both.)

Next came the appointment to buy a new home. Yes, I said buy! I'd looked at the charming little cottage with my realtor the evening before. That night my sweet husband and I talked about it and decided yes, we could live there quite comfortably. I texted my realtor and gave him the happy news. This morning me and my realtor went shopping, only to learn we were too late?!? So it's back to the hunt we go, and that doesn't thrill me. You see, yesterday I saw many, many homes, and more grunge and filth than a sane person should have to witness in an entire lifetime. Especially in a home. More especially in homes for sale! Ugg! Disgusting!

 

This is where I currently live--right on the bottom level with a sidewalk 18-inches from my living room windows (and 3 bedroom windows, for that matter). I love it here, but this was never planned as a long-term resting place, just a temporary landing pad. So yes, I'm a little disappointed in today's news, but not really. That hints of denial, I know, and maybe it is, but the fact is: There's no tracking down the  buyer who snatched away my dream, and if I could, why would I want to attempt to convince them to back out of their own dream? I'm sure we'll find another dream, and maybe it will be better and we'll act faster next time. In the meantime, I'm still fluffing my little nest. First up, the master bathroom. Probably because it's small and would take the least effort.

Everything in my Pleasant Little Palace is (or was) beige. Not fresh clean beige, but a dirty, dingy shade of beige. The ceiling, walls, trim, doors, window blinds, countertops, etc. Can someone drown in a sea of beige? Yes! If they don't shut their eyes every once in a while or don't paint. I started by painting the trim in the tiny master bathroom crisp, clean white. I love it! It adds enough pizazz that I may not need to paint the doors. (Smile, smile, cheer!)

I bought this linen cabinet through Home Decorators Collection and my son helped me assemble it. It seriously took us 2 hours, or maybe five minutes less than that. The next day I learned you can order it through the Home Depot and they ship it for free to their stores. It's a heavy box, so beware if you buy one and have to pick it up. I paid shipping and saved on taxes, so I paid an extra $12 to have it delivered inside my front door, which was worth it. Which brings me to disappointment number three. I stopped at the Home Depot this morning to buy a wall mount medicine cabinet I'd found online. They had 1 in stock, so I was lucky! It was smudged on the front, so I wiped it clean. I tried to heft it into my cart. Umm, I'm not supposed to lift much, and that weighed much, so I stopped hefting. Anyway, I noticed another smudge and decided to not waste more time or spit or another tissue on it. (Why was the front packaged so it could be damaged, marred and possibly ruined?) I left empty handed, except for the 4 new house keys I had cut before I tried to heft something furniture-like. (Yes, orange-vested employees will help you, but with that 2nd smudge, I chose to not track one down.)

Back to my Palace: I own a handicapped unit, so I'm blessed with bigger bathrooms and a larger laundry room than the other units. It's nice, extremely nice, until I want to walk around my bed. Then it's knee-knocking cramped! But how often do I walk around my bed? Okay, too much it seems, now that it's complicated and I notice when I bang things, like my knees on the footboard. But there are payoffs. Due to the grab bars in the bathroom I have a built in hand towel hanger. Sweet! And space to dance in the bathroom. Fun! (Yes, I've danced in there--to Brad Paisley.) After I added the white cabinet, a fresh aqua rug, and towels, it became charming. Best News: The beige has been tamed. (Banishment isn't always necessary.) Next Best News :Overflow stuff is tucked away.

Now I have a request: If you're selling a home in the near future in my area, in my price range, and it's clean and lacks an overload of beige, please put it on the market right away and invite me and my realtor and a blank contract waiting to be filled in, and my earnest money check over for a visit. Optional: Having freshly baked cookie aromas wafting through the kitchen. I prefer sugar cookies!

Okay family, is this helping satisfy your request

for pictures of my little abode?

Our Pleasant Little Palace

We Moved!

It's crazy! We're crazy, I sometimes think. And then I realize we're right on schedule in our lives, and craziness melts into secure sensibility. I know that doesn't sound logical until I explain it this way: We're racing headlong toward retirement and hoping to have rental property bringing in an income before our final paycheck is deposited. This condo is just one step toward our goal of independence.

Now, I'll share a little bit of the nitty-gritty of our move. I'll skip the packing process, the last long-haul cleaning session, the emotional detachment pains, and the final farewells, and only focus on the chaos of unpacking...

Above: It's Day 7 and I'm standing at my bedroom door surveying the living space beyond. Look! My new tires arrived at 8:30 this morning. Awesome! There were only three possible parking spots for them: On the dining room table, on a sofa, or right in the front entry with everything else in transition. It was a no-brainer.

Side note: A couple of mornings ago I exited my new master bedroom and smiled at this scene, except it was more cluttered and the walkway was much tighter. I’d just entered an organizer’s paradise. I could sort and stash and clean until perfectly contented. Being an organizing/cleaning machine, it was pretty thrilling! Um, I'm getting over the thrill at a very fast rate, but I'm also enjoying the accomplishment, so maybe I'm not...

Reality announced it takes tons of effort to condense a massive palace into an itty-bitty mouse-sized nest, and that's my task. I thought I was accomplishing it fairly well before the move began, but once boxes started piling up in our new space, and after putting things away for a couple of days, I realized I hadn’t deleted nearly enough stuff from our lives before we started loading trailers. And so the job goes on and on and on…

 

Above: Now I'm standing in the dining area doorway looking toward the front door. Um, I need to find a new landing pad for the toilet plungers. Maybe even get rid of one? The wire rack is holding things that are heading to good will, long and short-term storage, or the trash. The shelf is heading out the front door to live in the little storage closet on the patio.

But success is coming! This is the dining area after 6 days of constant work, and so far it's the area closest to completion. Sorry, but I don’t have a before "disaster zone" photo, so I'll take you on a visual tour: Picture 2 wire shelves against the back wall, both piled to the ceiling with boxes. Every other space in their vicinity was also inundated with boxes; the table, the floor — every inch in every direction. In advance I planned the shelves as a "staging area" to hold things until I assigned them permanent parking spots. It worked great and held the chaos in check.

The last step will be adding wall decor, but that won't happen until the box invasion has been halted and all things cardboard have been banished from the kingdom. I'll plan 2-3 days for moving pictures and decor around. I'll smile, frown, nod approvingly, grimace, scheme, measure, and move things again. Finally satisfied, I'll tap nails into studs and molly bolts into sheetrock and finish the magic.

Other than stuff occupying every corner of our Pleasant Little Palace at the moment and disguising it as a hoarder's haven, and everything painted the same color (Everything! Walls, trim and ceiling), we're doing remarkably well. It feels good to pause, look around and see progress, take a breather, and sit down while not yet exhausted, and blog again!

Bye, for now!

My Surreal Life

I love real life enough to oppose living in an unrealistic dream world. Today I said surreal for the first time in memory, because for the first time ever that's how I felt. Surreal is a word I've never uttered out loud before because I personally don't like it. I've heard it so much it usually feels overused and abused. Come on, we don't all live in LaLa Land all the time! Anyway, after it escaped my tongue I took a minute to look it up just to be sure I wasn't misusing it. I pity people who use words incorrectly. The best example I can think of at the moment is notorious, as in this sentence: She is notorious for her incredible cupcakes. Everyone unfamiliar with the meaning of notorious starts drooling and wondering how they can wrap their lips around one of those cupcakes. Not me. I start wondering how many people she has deviously chocked to death or poisoned with them. (If you're wondering what I'm talking about, look up notorious.) 

Back to surreal. I peeked into my garage and watched box after box leave its comfy little nest high above my head and land in the 4-wheeler trailer. (With help--none actually flew or landed alone).

It was a beautiful day for packing our lives and start hauling everything to a storage unit. Actually, not everything went--just look at the poor 4-wheeler and you'll know what I'm talking about.

Yes, it's there. Drowning behind the gift wrap and buried beneath all that stuff that didn't make it onto the trailer. Overhead is what I've called the garage attic. Surreal is what I call moving after two previous failed attempts. Seven years ago we received an offer on our home, but the following day the bottom fell out of the world economy. The hopeful buyer couldn't follow through and no one else in the universe was able to borrow money for homes. We settled back in and enjoyed more time in out happy little village. Last year we again thought we'd change our address, but both my hubby and I took unexpected turns in the hospital. We pulled our home off the market to recover. This year we're actually moving the boxes I packed right after Christmas more than a year ago. Yep, that is very strange and surreal. Please don't wake me up.

Quick update: We're buying a tiny condo. It's so small that it wouldn't take much squeezing to fit 3 1/2 of them into our present home. That is a weird thought--having too much for way too long, although we've been very blessed to share our space with children and grands who needed landing pads for various reasons over the past few years. Anyway, now we're heading toward retirement and hoping to have less and easier space to fuss over. I will miss my little spinach patch, deer wandering by and chomping on my roses, kids laughing in the park behind our home, sitting around a firepit on the back patio and toasting marshmallows as the sun sets, and pool tournaments resounding in the basement. I won't miss sixty-acres of carpet to vacuum or ninety miles of driveway to de-ice during the winter. 

I'm already dreaming of sticking plastic flowers in a planter by my new front door just so I can watch them fade under natural UV lighting. Just kidding. I'm not that old yet. But I am considering wallpapering something. It's been ages since I've hung wallpaper, and since wallpaper is speeding back into style faster than a bullet train, I'm excited to decorate with it again.

I suppose my sparkling little dream bubble will burst and nightmares will push in around the edges as we settle into our new place--as all six of us occupy our cute little three bedroom, two bathroom condo. Scrunching together may tempt a couple of our nestlings to fly the coop. On the other hand, it might be us old birds who spread our wings.

Hmmm. I'm feeling a vacation coming on. Maybe two or three in quick succession to make up for last year's memorable "hospital stay-cations."

Final words before my hubby and son drove away with our first trailer piled with treasures: "If anything falls off, keep driving! Don't stop! Don't go back! Retrieve it only if a cop is nearby so you're not cited for littering!"

Hey, anyone want a box of something?

Catch! 

Who knows what you'll end up with.

Come to my garage sale when I clean out the storage unit.

Wait!

I've just changed my mind about that garage sale. I just remembered I've promised the kids I'll leave them something when I die...

Hee, hee, hee...!

First Cry

I cried for the first time this morning. In the shower. With warm water soothing my neck and aching shoulders. While thoughts of "what if" of an unpleasant kind, and "it's going to be okay" of the reassuring kind, flowed through my mind.

For the first time in 12 years, through weepy wet eyes, I realized the little inset tiles in the guest shower did not contain a deep green color, but charcoal gray. How did I not see that years ago!?! Or even two months ago when I went through the entire house with a magnifying glass?

Oh, life is strange, surprising, and keeps rolling on despite tile colors and the reason for abandoning my own shower to use a different one. It's a short story, really, that sent me across the house, and goes like this:

Once upon a time--actually, this morning--I awoke to low gray clouds, a definite switch from the sunshine I expected. I should have recognized the omen, but no, I proceeded with life as usual. I stepped into the shower and turned on the water full blast to get it heated up. Instead of a gentle flow coming from the end of the hose and shower head near my bare toes, a thousand angry geysers of icy water sprayed from every possible angle above my head. I was shocked into awareness of the panic-inducing situation, and the long-standing awareness that me and leaking water have never gotten along!

Yelp! Hyperventilate! Scurry out! Mop and fume...

Relax, I advised myself once the water was off and while cleaning up. 

Calmed down by many degrees (the house hadn't fallen into a dark swamp, making calm a possibility), I texted my husband and my realtor. My husband, on the road today, offered no hope of help because I couldn't reach him, but my urgent message caught my realtor's attention. (Of course, it did--he's got the listing.) He called the home inspector who had examined every inch of my home yesterday and left a little business card on my kitchen countertop. The inspector (I picture him tiny, like a mouse, at this point in the story) admitted  he'd attached a pressure gauge and probably hadn't replaced the shower connection correctly when finished. Yes, my exact conclusion after the massive leak was fixed and I knew no broken pipes were spewing destructive waterfalls behind tile and sheetrock and flooding my basement and ruining my home. The incident left me wondering how many other things the inspector messed up. I've gone through my house since then and searched deeper, feeling like Sherlock Holmes as I looked for something out of place, odd or suspect. Nothing strange has turned up yet.

The end. But not really.

We listed out home less than two weeks ago and received an offer almost immediately. Today I cringed when heavy pipe wrenches crossed my tile floors, and cried when my bathroom resembled Yellowstone. Lately my whole focus has been on filling out forms, sharing banking details, signing papers and scheduling things like inspections, appraisals and walk-throughs. And I'm still cleaning like crazy. I feel like a goalie holding a rag and mop while defending every wall, cabinet, floor, etc. I'm ready to spring into action and block everything even remotely destructive. Nothing is getting past my body! 

Hey, put that marker down! Take your shoes off! Don't slam that door!

Ahhhh, the life of a someone who is selling their home. Tomorrow I'll laugh over today. Already I'm starting to chuckle. I wish I had a picture. If you don't know it yet, let me clue you in:

Crisis + Time = Humor

(Sometimes it takes a LOT of time, but I don't have time to waste right now, so I've got to get on with getting on so I can start packing.)