Extended Metaphor

            It’s a hot summer day, and I’m doing what I normally do during the summer, pretty much nothing at all. All the windows in my room are open and the fresh cool air is blowing through, but it’s not just air coming inside. A lone mosquito finds his way into the room, probably looking to get some food. It spots me and I spot it. It starts flying right towards me as I grab an old magazine that’s been sitting on my floor for months to swat at it with. The mosquito is coming closer and closer; one clean swipe with the magazine should end it all for the little guy. SMACK. Got it. The mosquito is dead and gone. It’s not a problem anymore.

            I look over at my PlayStation, placed perfectly in the center under my TV. “Been awhile since I had some quality game time,” I thought to myself as I got up and grabbed a controller. As I turn on the console and am scrolling through what seems like an endless amount of games, I remember I had laundry to do. If I didn’t get that laundry done, I wouldn’t have anything to wear tomorrow. Actually at this point, I was already wearing the same pair of sweatpants for two days straight. A third day wouldn’t be that big of deal, right? I brushed it off and booted up Batman: Arkham Asylum. As I was playing, another mosquito flies through the open window, probably to avenge his fallen comrade. “No problem,” I thought as I grabbed that old magazine again and started swatting away. This one wouldn’t go down, though. He was just too fast. Every time he’d stop and land on something, I’d go for the kill, but he’d buzz right out of the way just in time. Finally it got to the point where I just chased him right back through the window. After that, I gave up on playing Arkham Asylum and just went to do my laundry.

            This actually happened multiple times throughout the summer, and not just when I had laundry to do. Cleaning the dishes, taking out the trash, doing work to prepare for the start of school, etc. Each time I kept putting whatever my responsibility was at the time off, somehow, a lone mosquito would make its way into my room. Put off finishing up that job application that’s been on the kitchen table for weeks to watch some TV? Mosquito. Leave folding my clothes and putting them away for another time? Mosquito. Responsibility became a mosquito, and it wouldn’t leave me alone. The mosquito wouldn’t die; it would just be there, buzzing all around me, reminding me of all the things I was putting off. The mosquito was reminding me of all of my responsibilities.