Impulses

Years ago some friends and I heard screams coming from outside. Alvin sprang up and dashed out the door, heading down the block where the screams seemed to be coming from. One scream didn’t alarm me, and I was maintaining a wait-and-see posture about the screaming and what was to be done about it. But when Al went out the door, I was bound to back him up. With some exasperation, I went with him because that was actually and literally all I could imagine doing. Now I’d wait for him in the living room.

There was a time when if I heard a loud crash of breaking crockery in the next room I’d’ve sprung to my feet and dashed to see what had happened. Although I think with intensive effort now I could manage maybe one spring and one dash per week, which would be unaffected by the frequency of loud crashes, I only briefly consider springing and dashing and then I don’t do either one.

When I recently heard a crash in the next room I neither sprang nor dashed. Whoever caused the crash, assuming no volition on the part of the crockery, is responsible for cleaning up afterward. That’s my policy. My springing and dashing would only interfere with natural processes, like continually bailing out an unsound boat. It would also support the odd notion that I’m responsible for things I had nothing to do with, except maybe buying the crockery to begin with, which may be enough after all.

So when the crash came I stayed put. Then I heard, “Dammit!” whereby the witness implied culpability. At that point I felt sure that the mess would be dealt with by the same person, else “Dammit!” made no sense, implying as it did to me a dread of the inevitable cleanup. In any case, I need not spring at all, thus obviating dashing altogether.

And even if the current culprit were at that moment tiptoeing out the door, and my current week’s one spring and one dash were still unused, nobody was depending on the local geezer, namely me, to spring or dash at all, so I relaxed and enjoyed yet another moment when I notice that I don’t have anything to do and how excellent that is.

I’m thankful that I have no impulse or obligation to spring and/or dash for anything, and when I feel a twinge of resentment because heavy traffic has affected the emotional well-being of the bozo in that car there, causing him to jump rudely ahead of me, I’m just glad I’m not riding with him and let it go at that.