I wonder if there is a curiosity gene. If there is I have one floating around in me like ice cubes float around in a punch bowl. Bouncing around, clanging on the sides wanting out of the bowl but oh so delicately contained by the fragile glass sides. It’s the gene that whispers in my ear to look at what another person has in their shopping cart as we pass each other going in different directions down the cereal aisle of the grocery store. But in thinking about curiosity, I, of course, have taken a bigger step.
I was driving along the interstate recently and I passed an eighteen wheeler, one with triple trailers — or in trucker talk, a train. It was a FedEx truck.
As I’m passing under the big X on the side of the middle trailer, my curiosity gene struck. What fun would it be to be able to open all the boxes in that truck?
Just think of all the stuff that was moving along that road right beside me. Where it was all going to? I really didn’t care where, I did however wonder what. All the Amazon goodies. Clothes being sent not just from retailers, but lovingly handmade baby things from grandma to the new grand baby.
Really great car parts ordered from hotrods-r-us going to mechanics to be able to get that 1969 GTO on the road for the next car show. Oh you could go on for hours talking about what could be in that “train.” It’s not like I actually wanted all the stuff in that truck. I just think it would be fun to be able to open up all the boxes and see what was in them.
Being the woman that I am, I would start with the small unmarked boxes that look like they would hold sparkly little items sent from distributors to jewelry stores to be put out in those glass display cases that I have been known to drool on without shame.
Then move up to the boxes marked fragile, handle with care, glass, this side up, do not crush, rush delivery… Those I suspect hold some pretty good stuff. I suppose that after about the 114th box it would get pretty old though. Just ask someone who handles all those boxes day after day after day. I’m going to ask my UPS guy next time I see him. Pick his brain, check out his thoughts on the subject.
Then I passed a freight truck a few miles later. I decided that a freight truck’s interior didn’t ignite my curiosity gene. I see freight trucks as carrying things on pallets. Big, heavy, non-descript things that to me just make for more work than they are worth. I even passed an armored truck that I suspect was carrying cash.
Well as much as I would like to open up that truck, I already know what is inside so that can-o-cash didn’t light the curiosity gene either. However, I did think that it would be nice if that driver could make a short pit stop at my house and make a small or large drop off! Dream big or don’t dream, right?
Here is a little story about an armored truck incident. I was walking across our town’s main street one day and a Wells Fargo money truck was coming along as I crossed in front of him. I put my hands out, palms up, and wiggled my fingers like I wanted money and the driver laughed and wagged one finger at me in a no, no, no answer. We both laughed and will probably both be telling that story for some time yet. But hey, who knows, it might have been the day that they were giving away cash. I was just taking a shot at it. Step right along Trina.
So this curiosity gene goes way beyond the stray truck along the highway. I have known, as I am sure you have, loads of pregnant ladies. I cannot speak from experience here but I am pretty sure I would not want to know the answer to the boy/girl question until the big day. There is a couple I know getting close to that big day and I am really glad they opted to wait. Sure they are curious, just as all their friends and family are. But they have reigned in their curiosity gene.
I think it’s like a wonderful gift you’re going to receive and moreover just because you can peek inside doesn’t mean that you should peek inside. Curiosity is a, well it’s a curiosity. It’s not like being nosey. Nosey is just rude. Curiosity is not like a want to know or even a need to know some tidbit of information. No, think of curiosity as just being as human as the next guy.
But, yes, a but. But mind the tale of the cat and his doom of being just a bit too curious — keep your nose on your own side of the fence. A quick look through that knot hole though? That’s just being curious.
Trina lives in Eureka, Nevada. Her book ITY BITS can be found on Kindle. Share with her at firstname.lastname@example.org