Three o'clock and no sign of the engineer. John Paul Sartre said that three o'clock in the afternoon is either too late or too early for anything you want to do and I'm starting to agree. Agreeing with Sartre is not something I often find myself doing. Does this constitute an Existential crisis? Can 'does this constitute an Existential crisis?' even be considered a meaningful question? Such are the questions one is likely to ponder when deprived of Television for two days.
I secretly like the first couple of hours of waiting in the flat for someone to come and fix something. I find it a really good opportunity to do nothing productive. No point starting work on a project when Graham from Sky TV could ring the doorbell any minute.
Graham from Sky TV is visiting as the Sky box has stopped receiving a signal. To start with, Spike was probably the most concerned about it as at least Charlie and I can play scrabble or have an argument about whether or not a word is permitted in scrabble.
After the first couple of hours of waiting, I start to feel that existential guilt that I haven't done anything except stare into the middle distance. That's when I pull myself together and ring Graham (who should have arrived between 12 and 2). Half an hour, he says. Plenty of time to bang out a blogpost. Not a proper one with links and photos. Just a self-referential piece of existentialism featuring an anthropomorphicised cactus. Outside, it's a cold spring day. Daffodils bloom. Life thrives.
The Typography of Tears
1 year ago