I had a close encounter of the natural kind tonight. I’m too tired and still slightly sick to do the topic justice tonight, but it did make me think about comfort zones.
I’ve grown quite comfortable in my new apartment, and I’ve grown more and more used to not being plagued by pests. I’ve grown comfortable not seeing people loitering in the parking lot or hearing loud gatherings at all times of the day and night. I’ve gotten used to feeling less of a need to be on the lookout.
Today, my apartment was not the comfort zone it usually is. There was something in my little home that wasn’t supposed to be there. There was something that I wanted to get out, but I couldn’t bring myself to get it out myself. I felt helpless and hapless.
Being comfortable in my own apartment is fine; being comfortable outside of these four walls is not acceptable. Anytime you’re reaching as far as you can for the next hand hold, it’s going to be uncomfortable. But for now, I’m going to make myself comfortable again, in my apartment.