June, 2010
I was born impulsive, at least according to my family and long-time friends. I don’t have to look far for an example of this, just over toward Rosie the Mutt, who is snoozing nearby as I write. Rosie’s eyes met mine when I casually surfed the County Animal Control website last fall, wondering if we were ready to start looking for a new dog after the painful loss of our greyhound. On an impulse, I grabbed my car keys.
“I’m going out to visit a dog,” I told my son. He was shocked to have me return an hour later with said dog, a lumpy, 7-year-old of unknown lineage. “We’ll call her Rosie,” I said, though she looked like a Bowser or a Ruff. We all love Rosie, and boy, does she love us back, adding big joy to our days with her slurpy, wiggly affection.
I admit that this easily could have turned out badly. But it didn’t. And neither did most of the other impulsive things I’ve done in my life. In fact, when I compare my impulse moves with my more deliberate decisions, I see that the success rate of the flying leaps approach is pretty darned good!
My best example of this is something I’ve mentioned here before—our marriage. In an uncharacteristic (for him) impulsive move, Mark proposed to me just 20 days after our first date. Looking back, we’re both shocked that he moved so quickly! But my quick acceptance was totally in character. Three months later, we wed, and have been happily married nearly 22 years. So, a big win for impulse! And there are plenty more examples. Really, it’s been kind of my trademark for much of my life.
Now, here’s why this is on my mind. Whenever it’s time to write one of these columns, I ask myself, “So, what’s new?” More and more often, I don’t get an answer. The status around here has been quo, quo, and more quo. Okay, I got Rosie. But that’s about all. Why? I think it’s because I have grown much less impulsive as I get older. This may sound like a good thing, but for me, it’s not. Because if I don’t act on impulse, I don’t do anything new at all! Really. Nothing.
Well, my friends, this cannot stand. Jolted by fear that I’m sinking into a permanent rut, I’m hereby rousing my dormant Inner Imp of Impulsivity. I can’t tell you what I’m going to do, because a new impulse hasn’t hit me yet. But by gosh, when it does hit, I’m not taking time to aim. I’m going to fire first, ask questions later. Come on, Imp, wake up! I’m ready.
Have an impulse story? As always, I’d love to hear from you. And thanks for reading Our Town!
I’ve always enjoyed so much reading Sandy’s columns, but I’m gone four-to-five months in the summer. I’m newly back and have just read Sandy’s October column and wonder if perchance she suffered some misfortune while I was gone, as she wrote “it’s good to be writing again!” Do hope she was just on vacation. Barbara