Little things
This morning, I was a very sad Sally. I didn’t sleep well last night, and the morning was heavy with mist that made me feel like I was even more disconnected from the world than normal. I could have been anywhere, just me, in my car, driving into endless nothing. This was particularly appropriate considering my dark conviction last night and this morning that in the eyes of many I am best off kept entirely segregated from the rest of humanity entirely, ideally in some kind of small neat box containing radioactive material in order to maintain quantum ambiguity.
Around 9 am I decided that I was not going to spend a day being a pile of misery and woe, however, and decided to remind myself of things that are good, and bright and shiny.
I reminded myself that the clothes I am wearing are fresh washed, and as such have that lovely clean linen scent, which made me feel a bit better. I reminded myself that I cooked food last night, and got the salmon absolutely right, and that I think I will be cooking every night this week, which is fun, and there is a Tesco delivery arriving tomorrow which will help.
And the mist seemed to clear a little bit. No, not just metaphorically! It really did!
Then for some reason I had one of my occasional flashes of memory. I remembered the Temple of Monkeys in Kathmandu. I remember how the sun shone between the trees, and the steps leading up to the temple had this weird dappled light effect. I was wearing my favourite blue and grey shalwar kameez that day. I still have the shawl from it, and feel better whenever I wear it. There were monkeys everywhere, watching us with open curiosity. At the bottom of the hill, women were lining up to make offerings, with red smudges on their foreheads.
I went there, and I saw that. And sitting in my office, I remembered that is something I have, and that I can’t mess that up now. No one can take that away from me. It’s mine and it makes me feel a little bit brighter inside.
And then I looked out at the window and saw that the sun had finally broken through. The mist had faded and instead there were bright blue skies.
It has encouraged my god complex no end, I must say.
Around 9 am I decided that I was not going to spend a day being a pile of misery and woe, however, and decided to remind myself of things that are good, and bright and shiny.
I reminded myself that the clothes I am wearing are fresh washed, and as such have that lovely clean linen scent, which made me feel a bit better. I reminded myself that I cooked food last night, and got the salmon absolutely right, and that I think I will be cooking every night this week, which is fun, and there is a Tesco delivery arriving tomorrow which will help.
And the mist seemed to clear a little bit. No, not just metaphorically! It really did!
Then for some reason I had one of my occasional flashes of memory. I remembered the Temple of Monkeys in Kathmandu. I remember how the sun shone between the trees, and the steps leading up to the temple had this weird dappled light effect. I was wearing my favourite blue and grey shalwar kameez that day. I still have the shawl from it, and feel better whenever I wear it. There were monkeys everywhere, watching us with open curiosity. At the bottom of the hill, women were lining up to make offerings, with red smudges on their foreheads.
I went there, and I saw that. And sitting in my office, I remembered that is something I have, and that I can’t mess that up now. No one can take that away from me. It’s mine and it makes me feel a little bit brighter inside.
And then I looked out at the window and saw that the sun had finally broken through. The mist had faded and instead there were bright blue skies.
It has encouraged my god complex no end, I must say.