It starts to rain after a blow dry; the Sky box breaks; a chin spot/hair erupts; any number of tiny catastrophes strike and a muted Midult moan can be heard reverberating off the walls: “That’s all I need.” Breaking a glass; stubbing a newly painted toe; getting a parking ticket? “That’s all I need.” And the unspoken part is, of course, “…on top of everything else.”
That’s the trouble with the rush hour of life. We are already at capacity. So when a small thing goes wrong there isn’t much in the bank – emotionally, karmically, financially, physically, spiritually – to absorb the mini-shock. ‘That’s all I need’ is the howl of the plodder; the leaden wail of the coper. It goes hand-in-hand with, “Please not now… not tonight… it’s not a good time for this annoyance.” There is never a good time. Time is filled. Consider time spoken for.
How can we puff a bit of air through our lives, our heads, our hearts? A little space so that instead of the mildly defeated ‘That’s all I need’ with each trip-up, we could veer either towards a more spirited ‘Cunting hell’ or a sunny ‘Oh well’. Idiots happen. Punctures happen. Bathroom leaks and computer viruses and ripped dresses happen. Fear happens and loathing happens and today may not be the best. This moment is not vintage. But, even though this is – frankly – all I fucking need, I’m not going to let this little blot become the landscape; not going to allow this chapter to ruin the story. It’ll take more than that to break this angry camel’s back, bitches.