Multitasking

For many years I have been possessed with a strange panic every time I leave the house. It works like this, upon my return from an outing, (usually after at least a few hours or so, worse if I have left for days or weeks), I am convinced that I will return to find my house gone. Burnt to the ground. Or that one of my cats is dead. Something horrible, it doesn't really matter which. It always starts a few miles from my house. I am aware that these thoughts are probably irrational and not to my benefit, but they persist.

I read that this morning in Keri Smith's weblog and it struck a chord with me. The feeling I had was, oh! someone else feels that way, too, and when I thought that, I thought, yeah, that's why I write here, too, why I disclose my hopes and dreams and yes, fears.

I have this same fear, this same dread, any time we go out of town. I have lists that I follow before I leave, lists of what to turn off and what to close and what to leave open. I check and be sure that the cats have food and water, and that all the doors are blocked open so they can't get trapped somewhere, and that the iron and stove are off and that the windows are closed . . .

I used to try to remember it all in my head, and then would worry once I left the house, not knowing for sure if something had been done. Once I came up with the (painfully obvious) idea of having a list and being sure to check things off, I was able to let the worry (mostly) go. If I can look at my list and see that I checked off "cat food and water," then I know I don't have to worry about it.

The last time we went on vacation, Bob did the last check-through, and told me that he had checked to be sure all the doors were locked. I realize that it's silly, but having him tell me out loud without me having to ask meant a lot. It made me avoid (sort of) making myself sound neurotic.

Then, I'm usually able to let go of the worry for a few days. It comes back, though, usually on the day before we come home, when we're starting to think about packing, and turning in the rental car, and catching a flight back home. I start worrying that something has happened to the cats, or that the house has been broken into, or that it has burned down, and no one knows how to get hold of us.

My parents always know where we are, of course, and have phone numbers to reach us, but our neighbors don't know my parents, and wouldn't know to call if anything happened. Last year I called our next door neighbor and gave her my cell phone number and told her we were going to be away, but we're not close to them, or to any of our other neighbors, so it's not really normal to inform each other of our absence. It crossed my mind to call her this year, but I didn't. I had to believe that if something did happen, she would still have my cell number.

And then on the drive home from the airport, yes, it gets worse. I know, intellectually, that the odds of something happening are remote, but pretty much all the way home I'm praying that everything is okay, that the cats are okay, that the house is intact. It probably makes me sound crazy to say that, and I hate to put it out there like that, but probably half the people who read this think I'm crazy anyway . . .

There's absolutely no reason for it. Bad things never happened when I was away from home as a child, there's no reason for me to think that bad things will happen now. But as Keri mentions, it's control, I think. I don't have any control over what happens when I'm gone. I've let go of a lot of the control that I've held onto over the years. Bob does most of the cooking now, and he does his own laundry (and even mine, sometimes), and those were things that I found very hard to let go of. Not that I didn't need the help, of course--I did. But I felt that relinquishing those things was letting go of the control that I had over them.

You would think that after years of going on vacations I would relax about it, but that has never seemed to happen.

On of the journals I enjoy reading is Stefani Tadio's. She seems a lot like me in a lot of ways. She has a full time job, but spends her off hours crafting beautiful handmade greeting cards and other paper items. One of the reasons I enjoy reading her site, I think, is because her life seems so "normal." I like reading about what she's working on, and the books she's reading, and what she had for dinner. It's normal stuff. And I try to remind myself of that when it seems like I don't have anything to talk about. I have normal stuff.

I haven't been doing anything at all exciting lately, but frankly, that's the way I like it, that's what pleases me most. The most exciting thing that happened to me this weekend was my new space heater. I was able to spend the weekend relaxing at my desk, working on some personal web projects, reading, and knitting (usually with a cat in my lap*), and do it warmly. The gift of warmth. What a great gift!

*I'll probably always think of this entry of Stefani's when I do that. She wrote:

She's so snuggly that this afternoon I went all Willa, trying to type on the computer with one hand so I could continue to pet the sweet kitty on my lap. I finally gave up trying to work and read some journals for a while.

Last night I was sitting in front of the computer, reading weblogs and journals, with Dinah in my lap, and I was also knitting over the top of her. Multitasking at its best.