Chris Herrington, Contributing Writer
I got a bicycle today; well, it was yesterday, and I am writing about it today. It has been a while since I got on a bike, and I have to say that my first morning ride was pretty good…I enjoyed the feeling of just gliding along and going wherever I pointed myself. I recently retired, and this is an extension of that same feeling….where do I want to go next?
Actually, we can go anywhere we want anytime we want, except that we have all of these obligations to attend to. This is a very interesting concept. If you have a dog or cat, then you have a tougher time going on vacation or away for the weekend. You have all this stuff, and it is more difficult to think about moving. We want to go, but we have all of this stuff, these things, these obligations and duties, and this is usually what people refer to as growing up. I really don’t think so.
The more stuff you own, the more it owns you. The less flexible you are in life. When you are young, you own little and you can drop out of sight or cruise or take off at any time. When you have a bunch of stuff, it needs dusting and cleaning and maintenance. But, once you are onto a full bore binge of collecting, sounds like a line from Hunter S. Thompson……you end up with a case of the old fogies. You get all nailed down and you can’t move anywhere.
If I could start it all over again, I would never buy tea. I would take that dollar and put it in savings. And soft drinks too. And all the fluff we buy in life. Wouldn’t you like to just get rid of a bunch of stuff? Even if someone would just come and take it away? And broken and useless stuff, oh God! And clothes that don’t fit and never will fit again!
And the miles we have walked or driven and the hours we have sat and waited. What if we could get it all back and have it to use wisely this time? All that money. All that time! All that energy! And there are people we could have avoided or hooked up with. And the hours and hours we have watched commercials or stupid stuff like watching the computer load up.
God only knows the amount of stuff we really use and the time that is really effective. I have started writing down what I do on a calendar every day. I wanted to be able to look back over this year and see that I really did get something done that was worthwhile. I make lists of things to do each day, with circles next to the items. And when the items are accomplished, I put a check in the circle. If I don’t finish it, I draw an arrow to the right and start it again. Some things get pushed on for a week…other things get done easily and then get crowded by new items that were mysteriously added each day.
I bought this bike, and now I want to use it. I have to push open the hours to be able to use this new toy. It’s like a dog that needs to be walked or fed. It’s like a relationship that needs to be attended to. I wonder if I will end up talking to my new bike. It already needs things, like a helmet and a pump. I bought gloves and a water bottle and new pedals before it even left the shop! I was already grooming my new pet.
And now I need to store it somewhere…it needs a bed. I will put it on hooks and hang it somewhere safe. And it needs a new security chain.
It is one of 20 different workout things I own…and I play racquetball. I have to counteract all the sitting I do as a writer. And I need to go to a gym to do that, and so that requires racquets and balls and gloves and clothes and gear for my elbows and knees. I have no children; I am my own child. I am high maintenance. And I have to be able to relax, so I have a TV and a Dish satellite. And the piles of debris that I have to make it all work is a burden of storage, so I have to have more closets.
Anyway, it all grows and it collects and it makes life full of…..stuff. So, I’m really busy. I sit on a seat and pedal, I play on a racquetball court, I walk on a treadmill, I sit on the floor and watch TV, and I have a spooky chair to play on the Internet with. And I write to my family and friends about all the stuff I am doing and I make my way through the maze of interconnectedness, and it all seems to just fit into a little bag of stuff to do every day and note on my calendar as the time goes by like the spokes of a wheel on a bike in the tall grass that I need to mow and I’ll get to some day when I find the key to the mower.
runningturtle87
