I don’t know how flush the toilet anymore. I mean, I know how but I mean I forget. Oh dear, that’s not what I mean either. What I am trying to say is that with all the automatic flushing, I forget that there was a time when we had to push a lever to flush our own waste. When I want to wash my hands, I sort of just wave them in the air, expecting the water to know I am there and will turn on automatically as will the hand soap and paper towels. All these things will just appear and sort of dance around me, like birds around a princess in an old Disney cartoon. But I am a poor man’s princess, so all my musical numbers take place in the bathroom.
What I am TRYING to say is that everything is automated now. I’ve walked into doors, thinking they were going to simply part for me and once, because the elevator in my building is automated, I stood inside an elevator for quite some time, wondering why it was not moving, until a man walked in, thought I was a germaphobe who was petrified and would not push the numbered buttons for myself, and offered to do so for me.
How did this happen? How did I become so lazy? Or one could put it another way, how did life become so abundant?
When my husband and I started dating, back in 2001, I had already known him for 13 years as a friend. So when we started dating and he started opening every single door for me, it was a bit startling. I remember feeling embarrassed by this extravagant kindness. And yet, I did get used to it. So much in fact, that once a male friend and I went to do some errands and I stood waiting by his passenger door while he slid in the driver’s seat and stared at me, wondering what the heck I was doing out on the sidewalk for so long.
How do I get back to that place where opening doors and hand soap miraculously appearing in the palm of my hand is magic again? How do I see the abundance around me?
Made me laugh quite a bit. My dad is actually the one who made me believe that, when I’m ready to go out, coats magically wait for me in the air, chairs move out to let me sit, flowers often adorn my space, and I don’t carry anything that “looks heavy.” Sadly, gentlemen are a dying breed.