“The shower threw steaming water into the dawn at the twist of a tap, just as it does every morning; a flick of the light switch rolled away the dark, as always. The kettle boiled and there was tea; toast leapt from the toaster . Outside, the car awaited. The engine turned over at the first touch of the key and I rolled into the day, rain falling onto the weather-tight windscreen. Things work. Little things that we hardly take the time to think about. Oh, there are traffic jams and demands upon time, mortgages to pay and all manner of frustrations and niggles. But everyday things work to a point beyond the imagining of the most pampered emperors of history’s most fabulous empires. A hot shower, a jug of boiling water, light at a click of the fingers? A car that streams through the rain, the interior heated, radio harnessing news from the world? These are so familiar to most of us they escape comment. Yet when things don’t work, we are reduced to anxiety and, sometimes, near hysteria.”
— I resist the urge to moan about Mondays; it’s too suburban, too Office Space. But today I couldn’t find my hair brush; discovered after trekking for a quarter of an hour to the Tube station through rain and wind that I had left my wallet (and Oyster card) at home. Got shoved and prodded on the Tube, which was running with severe delays. Found that an irreplaceable button had fallen off my coat. Couldn’t get the microwave to thaw out my lunch. But also read this - Celebrate the ordinary things - which Jessica rightly calls ‘a beautiful piece of political writing’. And it’s enough to make me not complain about Monday (via somethingchanged).
(via somethingchanged)
