Ruminations of a Working Man, Pt. VII: They’ll Understand, Someday

Today, the sky is a thicker shade of gray. One that really doesn’t let much sun through at all. Not much sun by our standards, anyways… I used to become inspired by the sight of clouds, the smell of rain, the sound of life with a touch of laze. I’d write some music with my guitar, walk around my quiet, cozy apartment, put some water on the kettle to boil for a cup of peppermint tea. I thought it had all changed.

But the only difference between then and now is that I don’t have my guitar with me, nor the sound of anything but fingers tapping keyboards at persistent, if slothful, rates. I don’t know much Morse code, but I do know . . . – – – . . .

SOS. I swear everyone is inconspicuously calling for help, and in return, only receiving another call for help, or another reason to continue their silent plea. I join them in the outcry. There are two types of people in the world: those that inconspicuously call for help, those that don’t need to call for help, and those that imagine everyone is calling for help because inside they sit, tormented by their desire to have an outburst. The last group of people also miscount frequently so they don’t feel so overwhelmed by the sheer number of possibilities in the world.

I don’t have a kettle, but this drab corner of the office does have hot water and some peppermint tea bags. And my amazing striped socks. You’re welcome, onlookers and passers-by.

So, for the sake of good memories, I have removed my shoes and began steeping a cup of peppermint tea. I might even be so audacious as to put my feet on my desk and lounge while I also tap away at my keyboard… patiently. Since I don’t have a teapot to whistle when the water is ready, I may just screech and pretend there’s a kettle. I’m sure to be questioned, but they’ll understand, someday.

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