Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
Regularly every year around April or May, envy blows into my place and settles itself down for the winter. (It probably uses the crack where the screen door doesn’t quite square up to the jamb: the one the gecko uses every night to sidle in and check out my walls for possible treasure. You’d think it would learn.)
I make no apology for resigning myself to this annual invasion (or the nightly invasion by the gecko). I pick my battles. This one would be futile. Come autumn, I am deeply envious of residents of the northern hemisphere. Autumn might be mellow as all getout, but it doesn’t fool me. While you’re skipping around welcoming the darling buds of May, I’m steeling myself for my yearly endurance test: winter.
It doesn’t even help that the average summer temperatures in Abergavenny (Wales), for example, are startlingly similar to the average winter temperatures here in beautiful downtown SWR. Winter is winter, and I want nothing to do with it. When I die in about 20 years time it will be in winter, even though by then global warming will probably have raised the temperature even further. The psychological impact alone will finish me off. My endurance will run out.
But that, I’m happy to say, is my only descent into envy. I don’t want a big house or a fancy car, and while a financial injection wouldn’t come amiss, the idea of having $quillions doesn’t appeal to me at all. Where’s the challenge or the consequent sense of achievement in having whatever you want whenever you want it?
Other people lead lives entirely different from mine and I’m not self-delusional: some of it sounds pretty damn good. Regular overseas trips, for example. That would be nice. Even buying books whenever I felt like it would be wonderful. But I don’t envy them. Their lifestyles have elements that would make me thoroughly miserable, and lack some of the elements I treasure most. And when it comes right down to it, even envying participants in the northern summer has a downside. If I were there, I couldn’t see my kids.