Epiphanies

I had two epiphanies over the past couple of days. The latter much more profound that the former.

First, I now realize why I can't load a dishwasher. (And I SERIOUSLY cannot load a dishwasher. It's actually puzzling how absolutely horrible I am at it.) But now I know why... I am HORRIBLE at strategy, and loading a dishwasher is completely strategic. 'If I put this bowl, here, that plate won't fit. If I put these glasses here, there won't be room for that pot.' It's all strategic! I can't think five steps ahead. My brain just does not work that way. It's why I sucked at geometry... dang those proofs! It's why I suck at checkers and Connect Four! I stink at strategy. See, Matt? I knew there had to be a reason. Now you know.

And my second epiphany was this.... I discovered that many times when I stress and freak out over deciding what to do about a dilemma or situation, the answer is usually staring me right in the face. And the following memory is what brought on this discovery. Before Matt and I got married, I was living alone in my apartment, and my cat woke me up 'meowing' at 5 am. I got up to see what was his problem and stepped on something cold and wet in the middle of my carpet. Immediately I thought, 'hairball puke.' (If you have a cat, you totally know what I mean. And if that just grossed you out STOP READING HERE.) I was pretty repulsed and totally unprepared for what I saw when I turned on the light. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was not hairball puke at all, but a bloody, headless, cat-spit covered mouse.

I. Freaked. Out.

I dove into the bathroom and began scalding my foot with hot water and soap. After I was sure I was de-moused, I looked back into my bedroom, and there it was. Still laying there--my cat still proudly prancing around it. It's irrational, I know, but I could not think of what to do next and was on the verge of panic. I reached for my phone and called my Grandma, knowing she'd be awake at 5 am. In my horror-stricken, way too fast voice, I told her, "Grandma, Tuffy just killed a mouse, and there's blood everywhere, and I stepped on it, and I washed my foot, but it's still in the floor, and it's so gross, and I don't know what to do!" And I so clearly remember her calm words, "Well, Honey....Get rid of it." What wisdom. What insight. Get rid of it. Of course. Bloody, headless mouse in my floor. Must go away. Brilliance. But in my crazy panic, I didn't even see the answer, though it was staring me in the face.... (Well, not really, the little thing had no head, so it couldn't actually 'stare' at anything.) You get the point. Recently, I feel the same way. A dilemma has been plaguing me, and instead of just doing the right thing, my emotions have been blocking me from a clear answer. And it took a dead mouse to make me see. Thanks, Tuffy. R.I.P.

(I almost can't bring myself to look at this picture, much less post it. But it's just too relevant considering my frog/mouse phobia. Have. You. Ever. Seen. Anything. More. Terrifying?????!!!)