lucille ball, relief, regret, oops, yikes, wide eyed

Tiny pockets of relief

Sometimes, during the emotional assault course of the day, we stumble upon tiny pockets of relief. And it feels as though someone has given us a present. Relief happens in the instant adrenaline leaves the body. When the fight or flight instinct subsides. When you feel normal for a moment or a minute. When…

Something works

The fridge, the boiler, the radiator, the tap, the oven, the Sky remote, the car, your bank card, your legs – anytime something doesn’t struggle to function but instead operates exactly as it should. No fixer men, no endlessly being on hold trying to sort insurance out, no trying to drag your pin number from the darkest corner of your memory bank. Just… onwards.

You immediately remember where you’ve parked the car

Imagine. You park. You shop/cinema/head to the haberdashery department to buy the buttons that you are absolutely going to sew on before 2022. You return to your car. No patting yourself down like a rampant police officer trying to find the ticket, no rising panic as you speed walk between murdery pillars wondering if you are even on the right floor. Just, “Hello, car.”

A small window

When something weird happens in the space time continuum and you have a tiny window of opportunity. To do the thing you’ve been wanting to do, to go on the &OtherStories website, to look up a train time. Or to just do nothing. For a second.

When you come home and there are no missed delivery slips

What is that feeling? Oh wait this might actually be joy. Marie Kondo that motherfuckers.

When you think you’ve smudged your pedicure…

You have found the window (as above) to actually tackle your ancient goatherd feet and then there’s that awful micro-panic when you stub a toe, or rush the drying process and you think ‘Cockwobbles I’ve smudged it’. But you look down and it’s still glossy. Nice moment.

When you wake up and it’s not 4am

5am feels like a win. 6am is an Olympic gold. 7am – wait, are you medicating? 8am – OK you are clearly coming down with something.

Lots of clean pants

And these clean pants are sitting in the drawer. Exactly where they should be. Folded in a specific way. And not just the uncomfortable ones that you hates wearing but won’t throw away. The cosy ones. The still-white ones. This is better than finding a tenner in your coat pocket.

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