Unremarkable Me

My world is the focus of all my thoughts and energies.  My world is small, with few people in my life who are truly important to me.  My world has very few branches, very few exciting adventures.  My world is truly unremarkable to everyone...but me.
There are times when I ruminate about my life, my place in the world, my effect on the greater existence and I feel terribly small.  I have a lovely relationship with my mother, but none with my biological father.  I have negative feelings about my two siblings, but I've been lucky enough to have cousins that I love and respect.  I'm not a people person, an extrovert, or a social butterfly, but I care about the ones I love, and I care deeply.
The world is so big.  And so small.  I think about all the people I've met in my life, and all the people I wish I had more time to be with.  I love my dogs but don't want kids.  I like the kids of people I know, but don't care for stranger's children.
I watched a show today about David Suzuki.  He talked about a fellow scientist that spoke about the gas argon--how we inhale it with various other gases that go into our lungs with oxygen, but it, unlike many of the other gases, argon gets exhaled right back out.  And how the air we breathe out is then breathed in by someone, or something, else.  And so the air we breathe makes us part of itself, and what we take in has been taken in by others, so we are a part of everything that takes in this gas.  And there's a high likelihood that what we breathe today was breathed by dinosaurs millions of years ago.  So we're a part of our past, and we're a part of our future, and we're a part of each other.  But we still heedlessly spew toxic chemicals into the air we breathe without thought for anything other than getting from point A to point B or how awesome our status symbols are.
I think too deeply of many things.  I wonder why humans exist.  Honestly, we're on a speck of dust in a giant space the size of the Pacific Ocean.  Earth is just another planet next to a star, like any other star, in a spiral galaxy like any other spiral galaxy...and yet, there's life here.  Humans have existed for a split second in the vast universal time.  Yet my life seems so long, and short.
Many people believe in a god, whether it be Allah or Buddah or the Flying Spaghetti Monster.  After reading and learning what I have of Earth, of the smallest amoebas to the duckbill platypus to the blue whale and Himalayan Tiger, I'm boggled by the amazing variety of lifeforms we share this place with.  Mice, mongoose, mossy oak, moths and melons.  But I have an extremely hard time believing that anything other than evolution has gotten us to where we are.  Everything has a niche, it has a place where it belongs, and because of the actions of humans, many lifeforms are dwindling, or already gone.
I wish people really understood how their actions, and the butterfly effect of their actions, causes death & destruction to so many beings that are precious.  I sound like a hippy, and I know I'm rambling.
Life is precious, and short, and unbelievably miraculous.

One year ago....

I was living in a basement apartment.  My upstairs neighbors also owned the house.

I paid half their heating bills for a year because they wouldn't listen when I told them we didn't use heat, just the fireplace.  It was a major reason we decided to move out.

I had to shake out my towels before I used them because I had, more than once, encountered a hobo spider in my towel as I pulled it off the hook.

I couldn't open my refrigerator door all the way.  The short counter ended approximately 1 foot in front of the fridge.  And the fridge was jammed into the corner of the kitchen, right next to the stove.  Needless to say, whoever designed the kitchen--they were a frickin' genius!

The stove had one (of four) usable burners.  It was the large one, the only one that was flat in the front.  I tried to use the other burners a time or two, but stuff spilled out of them too easily.

The cupboards in the kitchen were set too low above the counter.  We couldn't store anything on the counter that was more than a foot tall--no wine bottles fit.  Major bummer!

I no longer have to worry about earwigs in my toothbrush.  Yes, that happened.  Of course, at 6 AM, when I brush my teeth, I'm not exactly awake.  Needless to say, the earwig wasn't discovered until after I opened my eyes--and finished brushing.  blech!

We have a couch!  A real, full-sized sofa!  At the apartment, we couldn't fit a couch in the living room, so we had a loveseat.  

We have a dining area!  The kitchen was so small in the apartment we had no room.

There's places for people to sit now--on the couch, at the table, or even on one of the bar stools. Holy cow, we can have people over!  Crazy.

I have a real guest room.  It has a real bed and TV just waiting to be used.  A year ago we had a "spare room" with a full-size bed and all of my bookshelves.

Speaking of bookshelves....I have a real library!  A beautiful, hand-built (by the Mister--what a guy) bookcase.  All my books fit, plus there's room for more.  If you're a reader like I am, you will understand my joy.

A year ago I parked in a driveway.  One we usually had to fight over with the neighbors (they now park both of their vehicles in the driveway).  Now, Nigel has his very own garage.  And it's big enough I could probably park him sideways.  Not that I would.  Unless I was really bored.  And wanted a funny picture.  I'm like that.

Leaves had to be raked.  Now, we have no grown trees.  I miss it at the same time as I treasure it.

The Mister likes to come home.  A year ago, he hated where we lived.  Now he's happy to come home and unwind.

In the past year, our new home has withstood nasty hail, became a place for Mom to heal from her surgery, witnessed grief when we said goodbye to Gunner, and is now a place of refuge after a long day at work.  As an introvert who greatly values quiet time at home, I truly love having a home of my own.

One year ago, I had no idea how much a house could mean to us.  Now I wonder how we managed to not have our own home for so long.