Perspective

It seems my computer is dying. A slow, drawn out death, but a death all the same. I frantically check bank account and credit card balances. Can I afford to replace this little, white rectangle that sits atop my desk? The real issue is, I can’t afford not to should it bite the dust tomorrow, or mid-sentence as I type right now. (Whew…it made it through that sentence, and this one.) How much longer my computer will hold on and whether or not buying an iPad to replace it is a viable option weighs on my mind a lot these days. (If you have an iPad please feel free to share your opinions and/or experiences.)

As I ponder all of my problems these days, all of the things that cause me to lose sleep, pace my long hallway, and have panic attacks I am quick to realize that I suffer from an extreme case of First World Problems. I am anxiety prone, not stupid. My version of losing sleep is lying in my comfortable bed, my head on a plush pillow, covered in a soft blanket, with a fan blowing a cool breeze over my body to counteract the hot summer air. Sometimes the cat realizes I’m awake, takes pity on me and cuddles up next to me. Did I mention that both the cat and I are well fed? Neither of us finds ourselves wide-awake at 2:00AM from hunger pangs. If we do, a walk down the hallway and into the kitchen solves that problem rather quickly. Pacing my long hallway, with two legs that work, despite all their issues, entails walking on a nice hardwood floor, surrounded by blank walls simply because I have not figured out which pictures to hang yet (where to hang what on the walls is a good distraction from my “real” problems). Did I mention that this hallway is within my apartment? An apartment that is clean, in a safe building, in a safe neighborhood, and this apartment has running water and electricity. It’s very rough suffering from an acute case of First World Problems.

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About djunapassman

I teach yoga, write, and edit. I live in a Brooklyn neighborhood that is changing faster than I can, or care to, keep up with. Manhattan still beckons me to her island a few subways stops away, reminding me of when I lived amongst her daily hustle and bustle.
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