Someone else got in and partaking in the usual lift etiquette, we mumbled something like “Hi” at each other. Ground floor arrived, being kind I let him out first, he didn't say thanks... Sigh... Fine! I'm feeling chipper, he's not going to get to me and I follow him through the lobby to the front door.
He opens the doors for himself and then slams it after him, in my face. All that positivity and happiness I had for the day ended up being exhaled in a huge long huff of hard pronounced swear words.
|It's OK, I wanted to do this to the door anyway (via businessinsider.com)|
I really should be used to it by now, but it still shocks me. Oh well, I instantly calm and I reopened the door and walk off in an automatic direction.
I've gone into such a deep automatic mode, that the next thing I know, I'm in this yellow discount supermarket staring at a shelf full of different varieties of honey, thinking to myself... This is lovely, but is this what I really planned for the day?
I walk around the store looking for something that will trigger what my initial day plan was going to be, massively failing what it was, I leave the store and I notice these cardboard boxes. Yes, that was it... I think. I had a thought about a cardboard box recently for some sort of use so I'll pick one up and see if that contents me.
It just feels like a visual massage, something about being possession of a cardboard box makes you happy, maybe because they were such a valuable commodity as a child that now I'm an adult I can have as many cardboard boxes as my heart desires.
I walk home with this box and plonk this banana box on the table and just stare at it. I can't remember what my initial plan was that day, and I just don't care. I now have a clean and gleaming cardboard box in my room, the world is good again.