see as i saw

Yes, that is the phrase often used to teach children about crossing the street.  We'd do well to heed as adults, but in a slightly different manner.  Life has a tendency to get busier as we transition into and through adulthood.  Maybe we start thinking one task or step ahead of where we are and what we're doing.  Or perhaps we just lose track of another lesson common to childhood, minding our 'Ps and Qs'.

I've tried to start being more cognizant of this in recent months and attempt to alter my own behaviors in areas where I'm an offender.  I make an effort to greet my bus driver and exit the front door with a "thank you".  And when everyone clambers to make it on to a crowded bus, cutting people off, I first have to remember to keep my composure over their rudeness.  Then I wait for my turn.  If I don't make it, there's bound to be another bus in less than ten minutes or two other routes a couple blocks away.

Today I went to an independently-owned lunch spot, where I remembered the owner to be a great man.  So when I stepped to the counter to make my order, instead of just barking out a menu item, I smiled and said hello.  When he asked me how I was doing, I responded and mirrored the question.  He smiled in return, said he was well, and told me in a thick middle eastern accent, "Nice always to see you".  I think we both made one another's day.

Or the other day, when the cashier at a store asked to see my credit card and ID.  I held them out for him while he finished folding the shirt I was buying.  And for that simple act, he thanked me.  He said that usually people just tossed them on the counter as if he were either contagious or they were annoyed.  We had another thirty seconds of lighthearted conversation before he smiled and wished me a wonderful day.

It's so simple.  Thank your cashier.  Treat your server like a human instead of peon.  Hold a door for a perfect stranger, even if you have to wait three seconds for them to reach the door.  I'm still not perfect at remembering all of my common courtesies, but I'm trying to make it more habitual.  I find it promising that I often mentally kick myself a few minutes too late when I do forget.

Perhaps this makes me strange (of the many things that fall under that category), but I actually like doing laundry.  At least, there's the potential for me to enjoy it.  I must admit that my current set up is less than optimal: scrounging for quarters, waiting for machines, constantly going upstairs and downstairs to switch loads.

I suppose the reward for me is really the folding.  If you've ever seen The Big Bang Theory or worked in a clothing story, you're familiar with some sort of folding board.  I would use one of those.  I went out of my way to use one when I worked in retail.  Yes, it's anal retentive, but there's a certain sense of satisfaction I get out of precision folding my clothes.  No, this doesn't mean I want to come to your house and do your laundry.

Then there's the part of the laundry process that I remember enjoying even as a child.  Although I was less than enthused to be on family laundry duty when I was seven years old, I loved piles of clothes fresh out of the dryer.  I would cover myself in them, absorbing the warmth and the fresh scent.  Although I no longer lay in a pile, I do have a tendency to drape a warm t-shirt over myself.

On a side note, it's funny how the stream of consciousness that is this blog has a tendency to harken back to childhood and adolescent "I remember when..." moments.  I suppose I'll have a really good collection ready when I'm old, so I won't have to recall them on my own.

Sometimes you get angry when bad weather interferes with your plans.  On any other day, I would've been disappointed in a canceled Spartan football outing.  On this particular Saturday, I was thankful for cold driving rain, three more hours in bed, and the potential of an afternoon nap.

If only someone had warned me before I considered those warm, fuzzy feelings.  First, I had to endure another two hours of driving with the nasty weather and the people who want to drive 15 mph under the speed limit in it.  (I know, I shouldn't bemoan their careful attention, but sometimes I just want them to get out of my way.)

And then I learned that tailgating had been replaced with a family party.  Those tend to have a high decibel and too many cameras.  I love my family, don't get me wrong, but a few of their tendencies don't meld well with sleep deprivation.  There happens to be one example of photographic proof, I'm told.  But that's what happens when someone interrupts naptime to pose me in a photo.

I was in bed by 10:00pm and I swear that my phone rang at 1:30am, citing a private caller.  When I looked at my call log in the morning, though, it wasn't there.  Perhaps sleep and waking became so blurred that I was no longer differentiating one from the other, and it never really happened.