Halfway

I have done several hard things in my life:

*survive the chicken pox
*accept that fact that there will never be another new episode of Saved by the Bell or Friends
*leave home to go to Linfield
*leave Linfield to return home
*eat 2 boxes of Twinkies to become the Linfield twinkie eating champion (no comments!)
*make it through "The Lost Years"
*swim an out-and-back in Hagg Lake
*Pilates class
*give Linfield even more money
*say good-bye to my little L.O. apartment
*keep the attention of 100 5-year-olds each Sunday morning

But I think I can honestly say the past 21 days have been the hardest span of 21 days I've gone through.

Think of it like this: You are a car. Your owner loves you, washes and waxes you and drives you all over town. And then you're sold. (can't believe I'm writing this. this is the dumbest metaphor ever. . .) So you sit on the lot and wait for someone to buy you. And potential buyers walk the lot. Most look and walk right past. Some pause, take a longer look and then just keep on walking. A couple times you even get taken out for a test drive! But the test drivers never come back a second time. So for years you sit. and sit. and sit some more. By this time, you actually enjoy your spot in the back of the lot. The cars next to you have been back there with you for years too and you've gotten really close. You get all of the perks of being for sale: washing and waxing and cleaning - without the hassle of random people driving you on dusty roads and asking all kinds of questions about you.

And then one random day, a day that's really not out of the ordinary, you see someone walking the lot that you recognize. And they're not even there to buy a car, but to see someone else at the dealership. But heck, since this person already knows the car, they decide to give it a test drive for old times sake. And the test drive is so fun that the person comes back the next day for another test drive and before you know it, he's bought the car. Which is ironic because he wasn't even in the market for a car. (seriously? I'm seriously writing this? somebody please stop me. it's for my own good.)

So you turn into a race car and drive around 100 mph every day. Sometimes the driver accidentally swerves into the neighboring lanes or applies the brakes too hard because the driver hasn't driven in a while and the car has been sitting on the lot for years & is not used to going over speeds of 10 mph (per the sign in the dealer's parking lot).

Then the driver parks you in his garage because he's going to be gone for a while. But he tanks you up & puts a cover on you so you will be protected while he's gone & ready to go when he's back. And then you sit. again. and you sit some more. And it's just like being on the dealer lot because there are other cars in the garage to be with (apparently this guy has roommates because he surely does not own more than one car. I want to make that abundantly clear.) and it's great just to be able to sit & talk again and not worry about getting dusty or a craked window on the open road.

But you think, although it's more wear and tear and upkeep on yourself, you like going 100 mph. You like being driven all and seeing places you've never seen before. Sure gas is expensive and sure you're bound to get a flat tire one of these days. But when that happens, you patch it up or put on a spare until you can get another tire & be good as new again. And sure, you don't get to spend as much time with the other cars but that's OK because they all have owners too.

So for 21 more days you are garage-bound. And for 21 more days you come up with as many other lame inanimate-object metaphors you can think of because you really have too much time on your hands and clearly an imagination to big for your own good. If this post has been too deep for you, please let me know and I will send you the Cliff Notes version. If you see me on the street, feel free to slap me for writing a CAR metaphor. I really could go all night though. . .let's see, what's next? fruit: I was like a week old banana. . .or carnival rides: everyone loves the bumper cars because they're so much fun but when you only have 1 ticket left, everyone goes for the roller coasters. . .sporting equipment: why does everyone want the flashy, colorful soccer balls? what's wrong with good ol' reliable black and white size 5? See - I really could go all night!