Slowin Down

“You are following much to closely” she says.  She is right.  She is always right because I am always doing it.  I don’t know why.  It is one of those unconscious things that just feels right when I know it isn’t.  Very seldom, if ever, am I in a hurry to get somewhere. With my time being my own (our own) for the most part, there is no logical reason for my behavior.  Like when she says “You know the speed limit along here is thirty five”.  Or her favorite zinger, harking back to a time when I got a speeding ticket, “Officer Green is watching you”.

I know I am not alone.  Yesterday, while on the way to Portland, a car behind me was right on my bumper and, even though I was five miles over the speed limit, on the first opportunity, passed me and disappeared on down the road.  There but for the grace of my co pilot, went I.  I recognized him when I pulled up behind him at the next stop light.  Actually, I recognized him when he was crawling into my rear view mirror.  He was me personified.

It occurred to me that I am always in a hurry.  I have always walked fast.  Still do.  I also shop like the store is going to close in five minutes.  I tend to rush through things, once I choose to address them at all, but therein lies another story.  I’d like to say it’s a guy thing, but apparently it is not.  I see too many other guys who are also “of an age”, gray haired, a little short for their weight, obligatory baseball cap, pants and belt now holding up what they once held in, wandering aimlessly around, frequently following their wife through stores, as if they planned on staying the weekend.  I can’t do that.  I wish I could.

I watch my wife slowly move through the aisles while I stand behind the cart, impeding the traffic flow.  She will suddenly pluck an obscure item from the shelves, having just created some new decorative plan in her mind while I, upon examining the item, am more prone to ask probing questions like “what the hell is that for” or “why are you buying that”?  You see, my idea of  being creative is getting a cart upon entering and immediately moving to a checkout line as a place holder so that when she is through, we are ready to boogie.

I will have to say though, now that I have made this revelation, I am consciously going to try and change.  I am going to cast aside the belief that I will probably arrive early for my own funeral.    Everything does not have to be done like my life depends on it.  I will start pacing myself and approach things more slowly.  Cleaning the toilets for instance comes to mind.