coming up for air

I have been wondering about this blog as a means of self exploration. It seems awfully boring to present some of my meandering introspection to all of you, while you all wait for the punch line.

So, I'll meander and then give you a funny bathroom story.

I started playing this game, Aion, with my husband. It was going to be a great way to spend time with him in a way he felt really connected with. We could set goals together, explore together, discover a new world together, and feel satisfied that our relationship had ambition and success.

We participated in the closed beta, and then open beta, and finally the game launched in late August. It was a lot of fun. We were part of a great guild that a friend of mine recommended. I became popular in my various roles in the guild.

Then I started to notice that family dinners were harder to put together. I needed to be crafting online. Sometimes the kids would go back to school without having done their homework, but there were forts that needed to be defended. The two little girls started to be glued to laps or otherwise acting out for lack of attention, but levels needed to be grinded. Finally, Tag's medicine ran out but I couldn't quite find the time to get it refilled, because... and that's when something inside of me snapped.

I hadn't written in almost 4 months (besides a stupid nothing update), it was getting to be harder to find time with friends, and the gym was becoming less imperative to me. Not only that, but I spent less face time with my husband while sitting directly beside him for hours on end, than when I never touched games at all.

So I quit.

It was interesting to lay my reasons for quitting before Man, and wonder what his reaction would be. After the money, time, and spending the energy to build guild relationships, it seemed wasteful to just set it all aside. But I compared it to a Reece's PB cup in my hand. I could either eat it, or throw it away. In either case it would be gone, but I know which decision will help me feel better about myself at the end of the day.

Sometimes I wonder if quitting was the right answer. There were many other solutions I could have chosen, like only playing certain nights of the week. Or only playing on long weekends. I could also just limit my game time to when the kids are in bed. However, my best intentions were foiled by my tendency toward laziness.

So, this past Sunday, I gave away many thousands of kinah worth in crafting supplies, sent all my remaining money to Man, and signed off with a thank you to a great guild.

In the mean time, I've had a lot of time to wonder what it is I do with my time. It seemed so important to me that I was willing to quit an epic journey for it, but now I feel lost all over again. Now that we're all over strep and a possible bout of swine flu (exposure to confirmed case, followed by illness strongly resembling said flu) I'm back in the gym and I've even started a new short story I'm excited about. But what about the rest of my day?

I've caught up on this season of Bones, House, The Office, Castle, and 30 Rock. Believe it or not, it only took two days. My dishes are once again done (thanks to my marvelous mother, who came to visit) and I'm back in the habit of cooking every night.

So I twiddle my thumbs and again wonder "now what?" over and over as I slowly go through the house and correct things bit by bit.

There are a few things I'd like to do with my life that I hadn't even thought about attempting before Aion, like actually participating in NaNoWriMo (in the privacy of my own computer though, none of this entering things online for anyone else to see garbage) and there's still the matter of this college application that's hanging in limbo. Also, my food storage plan is a lot easier to gauge now that Raul is on the scene. He's doing a marvelous job of keeping cans organized for me, and letting me know when it's time to get new supplies. All I do is glance at each can's intake. If I can't see old cans, it's time to get new.

Domestic matters are always calling, as well, like upcoming Halloween. My kids' minds seem to change all the time concerning their costumes. Tag has wanted to be Dash, a police officer, and a few other things that don't come to mind right away. Princess wants to be a Snow Princess, Pebbles wants to be whatever she last heard a sibling say they wanted to be, and Freida just likes candy. So, that needs to be taken care of.

The day I quit, Man looked troubled and grumpy. I was terribly worried that he was mad at me, but I clung to the assurance that I knew for sure I had made the right decision. Later that night, he hugged me and said he was proud of me, for making a tough decision that was right for me. That felt good.

Anyway, let's get back to the bathroom story.

I was out at lunch with my mom at this grill sports bar place when the Call of Nature became insistent. The bathroom there smelled surprisingly sterile, as if something had wiped the whole place down with undiluted bleach and then not rinsed.

They have these toilets with the bowls that have a very slight grade to them. I always worry about some splash back from that sort but I try not to think about it too much. Someone else came into the bathroom, hacking up a juicy lung on her way to the handicapped stall. I winced, thinking about how that was the first thing I did upon entering the bathroom since I didn't want the diners at large to know I was ill.

I completed what I came to do, and wasn't paying attention to where I dropped my toilet paper. It ended up close to the rim. I flushed, but the water failed to remove my papery evidence at all. I flushed again, blushing that the Sick Person might hear that I was having a problem in my stall only two doors down.

What are your options at that point? There was no Instrument of Toilet Correction and Cleaning available, and under no circumstances was I going to be putting my hands into a public toilet, laden with bleach or not. There was only one thing I could do, and that would be to run.

I opened my stall door, ready to dash for the exit, when I heard the bathroom door open. I quickly closed my door, hoping she didn't see me. If I had run at that point, I would have risked her seeing that my toilet bowl still had paper in it, and then she'd think I was some sort of slob. After hearing her run to the last available stall, I quickly left my stall, agonized over the time it takes to thoroughly wash ones hands and properly vacate a restroom without touching anything else unless you have a paper towel barrier well in place, and then whirled out the bathroom door just as the handicapped stall door began to open.

I was safe. Now, no one would know who left the toilet paper in the bowl.

And that's important to me. Inexplicably.