Mixed Metaphors

Lately small things have seemed like metaphors for the bigger life picture. 

I was swimming in my pool. It called to mind childhood visits to my cousins in Winfield Village (Savoy, IL). We would swim in the community pool and test ourselves to see how long we could tread water. We had heard that the lifeguard qualifying test required a full minute of treading water. We wanted to be lifeguards. Trying to tread water was a fun challenge for us.  I paddled over to the deep end and started treading water.  It suddenly struck me less as a fun challenge and more as a depressingly accurate metaphor for life. I stopped treading water and started back floating instead. It then dawned on me that floating, letting my body bob around the pool with no active guidance on my part, could also be a metaphor for life. I got out of the pool. I have not been back in since. 

I bought flowers at Trader Joe's. They were cheap. I felt like my life and my home needed a quick, cheap, pick-me-up.  I do not know if I just bought a bad batch of flowers (is that possible?) or if it had to do with the temperature in my place during the day, but the bottom line is I came home yesterday to the most horrible rotting stench. It was the flowers. The one thing I had done to make my home a little nicer, in fact, made my home repulsive. As I threw away the flowers and tried to eradicate the foul smell from my house, I thought to myself: "This is probably a perfect metaphor for my life somehow, but I refuse to apply it."