Everyday Firsts

I have a lot of firsts every day. It starts at the crack of dawn when I’m the first one in the house to get up. I am the first one in the shower so I either get all the hot water or none, depending on the water heater cycle. I am the first one down stairs, so I get to be the first one to find any presents the cats leave for us. I am the first one to turn on the water faucet in the kitchen, so I have to let it run for a while before filling my tea kettle. But my favorite part about being the first is being the first one out the door where I run into a spider web. The same thing happens when I’m the first at DDA. There’s always a spider web. I’m often the first one in in the morning, not because I feel the need to continue my firsts, it’s just that I have a 5 minute window of opportunity to leave my house. If I am not within that window I’m late, if I’m before I’m way early. But that 5 minute window seems to move daily, so I’m never sure which it will be.

The part that always fascinates me is the spider webs. For as much as as I walk in and out of my house in a day (taking out garbage, running errands, going for walks), it amazes me how fast a spider web gets where it gets, and how. Like how does that spider always seem to get one strand all the way across my path right at my head height, even when there is a large shrub to the right but an open nothingness to the left. Even more amazing is the intricate spider web that goes up in a night. A few weeks ago I saw just such a thing. It seemed to be suspended in midair with nothing above it, a giant spider smack dab in the middle of it. The web itself probably had a 3 foot or more diameter. The funny part is that it was hanging out just above our heads on a walkway that gets a lot of foot traffic near my house.

So what does this all have to do with DDA other than running into spider webs every morning? It’s the web itself and the relation to being a programmer. Just as a spider works diligently to snare its food, a programmer works to get their tasks complete and a website built. There we sit painstakingly designing something beautiful that noone will notice until the final product. Each little strand connects to the greater part of the project, all interlocking, needing the structure and the previous steps working together to make it complete. It makes me feel bad (and of course a little creeped out) when I walk through that sticky strand, because I know I just made that spider’s life a little more difficult. But in the end, I’m sure that like my clients do to me, that spider will compensate and have that thing of beauty. Now if only I could catch more than flies, I’d be happy.?