Responsibility is a spider spinning its web around your once-free spirit. It traps your soul, your talents, your knicks and knacks in lovely silk. That way, you don't mind so much. Before you know it, you're middle-aged. Living in the dark with nothing fresh. For twenty years or so. The spider spins a pattern; insidious at best: work-bills-kids-alarm-clocks- food-on-the-table-roof-over- your-head- cleaning-up-keeping-up- picking-up-and- dropping-off kind of cobwebs. Under your skin. Then one day someone close to you says, "Stop!" When you didn't even realize the way you're going. In circles. All the way down. "Stop." It's time to dust those cobwebs off.
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