Knowing When to Quit
Wake up, make coffee, turn on computer and I'm off to a good morning.
It's the rest of the day that has the potential to be stupendously annoying.
Last Friday was one of those days when I should have stayed under the covers, having coffee and computer delivered to my bed.
The morning ritual went alright, apart from an odd e-mail. One of those blast-from-the-past ones.
For lunch I decided to make myself some delicious, nutritious rye meal.
After about two minutes I realized that we had run out of gas. In Iceland, having a gas stove is fairly unusual and so we have a small 5 kg gas tank under the kitchen counter. Last time, getting a new tank was a terrible fuss and, being sans voiture, involved getting a friend coming around with a car and so forth.
This time I had seen an ad in the paper for a home delivery service. Sure, the gas tank was of a slightly different model, but paying for the switch and a new tap was so worth it.
Happily I put the rye meal in the micro wave oven and looked forward to a warm meal and the luxury of a hassle free gas replacement.
Then the rye meal exploded in the micro wave oven.
After cleaning the entire micro wave oven and underneath the counter in order to get to the gas tank - subsequently finding things I thought would have walked out on their own accord by now - gas guy showed up. Reluctantly, he switched the tap for me, I paid and off he went.
Of course the gas tank was exactly a fourth of an inch too big to fit under the counter.
Not only do we now have an unsightly gas hose visible but we can shut only one of our two kitchen cabinets. It was either that or leaving it in the middle of the floor, making cooking impossible and obviously being completely counter productive.
By now I was miserable, unfed and a hundred dollars poorer. Outside, it was pouring rain.
When one is in a sulky, bad mood one's best option is to do something practical. Or so I have often felt. In this case I went to the bank and made it before closing. A small victory, no?
I took my line number #390 and glanced at the sign displaying which number was up. It was 329.
There were 61 people ahead of me in the line.
I may revise my philosophy of "doing something practical" in the future.
By then, I was convinced yoga was the only thing that would keep me happy.
And it did.
It was only the next morning the excruciating pain in the shoulders and neck - from all the head stands - set in.
It's the rest of the day that has the potential to be stupendously annoying.
Last Friday was one of those days when I should have stayed under the covers, having coffee and computer delivered to my bed.
The morning ritual went alright, apart from an odd e-mail. One of those blast-from-the-past ones.
For lunch I decided to make myself some delicious, nutritious rye meal.
After about two minutes I realized that we had run out of gas. In Iceland, having a gas stove is fairly unusual and so we have a small 5 kg gas tank under the kitchen counter. Last time, getting a new tank was a terrible fuss and, being sans voiture, involved getting a friend coming around with a car and so forth.
This time I had seen an ad in the paper for a home delivery service. Sure, the gas tank was of a slightly different model, but paying for the switch and a new tap was so worth it.
Happily I put the rye meal in the micro wave oven and looked forward to a warm meal and the luxury of a hassle free gas replacement.
Then the rye meal exploded in the micro wave oven.
After cleaning the entire micro wave oven and underneath the counter in order to get to the gas tank - subsequently finding things I thought would have walked out on their own accord by now - gas guy showed up. Reluctantly, he switched the tap for me, I paid and off he went.
Of course the gas tank was exactly a fourth of an inch too big to fit under the counter.
Not only do we now have an unsightly gas hose visible but we can shut only one of our two kitchen cabinets. It was either that or leaving it in the middle of the floor, making cooking impossible and obviously being completely counter productive.
By now I was miserable, unfed and a hundred dollars poorer. Outside, it was pouring rain.
When one is in a sulky, bad mood one's best option is to do something practical. Or so I have often felt. In this case I went to the bank and made it before closing. A small victory, no?
I took my line number #390 and glanced at the sign displaying which number was up. It was 329.
There were 61 people ahead of me in the line.
I may revise my philosophy of "doing something practical" in the future.
By then, I was convinced yoga was the only thing that would keep me happy.
And it did.
It was only the next morning the excruciating pain in the shoulders and neck - from all the head stands - set in.
posted by disinterpreter at 10:10 PM
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