In a tough spot

After a long run filled with internal struggles, I asked my wife, "How do you think you change your spots?"


She gave me the look that I've come to understand means, "Oh dear God, more of this?"
What she actually said, as patiently as 23 years of living with me allows, was "Why change your spots? There's nothing wrong with your spots." She's too kind, sometimes.


"My spots are killing me." I told her.


For the ease of both reading and writing this, we'll dispense with the conversational format and just assume that the rest is a mixture of what was said, what I thought was said, or what should have been said. Back to the story...

I have killer spots. I have hyena spots and Tasmanian devil spots, that make me tense, high-energy, and fidgety. I want to have some turtle spots, some sloth spots, and some owl spots (the wise ones and not the endangered ones). I'm not sure if they all have spots or not, but that couldn't be farther from the point; these are metaphorical spots I speak of.


Perhaps I could have some backup spots for special occasions, or just to get me out of a jam. I could slip into them at a moments notice and become calm, suave, intuitive, or whatever the situation called for; a set of loner spots really.

I could have used backup spots yesterday, when I misunderstood the purpose of the trip to the craft store. I marched in and asked for the aisle number of the items we needed, found the aisle and the items, and was ready to go. After sifting through the layers of disappointment that my wife had in me, I was enlightened. It turns out that my method keeps you from finding the things that you want, but don't know it yet...the only way to find those things is to explore each aisle.

I want to understand, but I'm missing some of the spots that make it possible.