Tolerance

I am definitely learning to be tolerant of spiders. Violation of the law (i.e. entering the house) is still cause for capital punishment, but otherwise I see them as comrades aiding us in the fight against harmful insects and I am able to leave them be, whereas in the past I could hardly suffer their presence near me. Don't get me wrong though, were one to end up ON me, I'd scream like a little girl and smash the thing amidst a frenzied and spastic dance of horror.

I've also noticed that I am more tolerant of dirt. A little dirt on the floor or on the walls doesn't seem to send me into fits anymore like it used to. Again, don't get me wrong, I still feel compelled to vacuum/shampoo and I still feel compelled to repaint our walls...I just don't think I'm losing sleep over it if you know what I mean. I think Africa is partly responsible for this latter bout of tolerance, another in a long list of pettiness that I am forced to rationalize in a greater context than I did before. Who of us could suffer concrete slab floors? How about no floors, just dirt/mud? Of course, now that I think about it, I have OSB floors...albeit ornately pieced together.

Anyway, even the most meticulous of cleaning in Africa cannot stem the tide of red dirt that flows into homes. Walking through our little mansion once with white socks and seeing the bounty that covered them within moments convinced me of this. So, whether the cause is "TIA" (This Is Africa) or kids, one can live with a little dirt.

By the way, here is a Nordstrom Rack in Uganda:

...right beside a trash dump.

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