I’m not sure how many of you out there will read this (Other than Pat, Hi Pat!) but I figure that you’ve gotten a lot of the same format so I may as well spice it up for you. I present for you a Nellie Stagg original poem, brace yourself…
Our refrigerator doesn’t chill,
There’s a horrible smell by the grill,
The pool is lime-jello green,
That these are our chief complaints, is obscene.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how the things we have the privilege of fixating on, like how our yogurt goes bad after a day, how the oven freakishly never turns off, or what gnomes have been making the toilet paper vanish. It’s important to realize that if while here these petty annoyances are the most inconvenient things in our lives--then we really have nothing to complain about. Context is forced upon us as within biking distance lies authentic poverty.
My graph of the week is on another retrospectively frivolous inconvenience of ours, attempting to figure out how to manage the Braai and our inability to maintain a steady grill temperature.
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