Ages ago, back in March, Fiona sent through this story as part of an email. I had intended to link to it sooner but life got in the way. Here is it however, although I can't find the original link (sorry Fiona!) Both my partner and I loved this tale as we saw ourselves reflected in it.
A couple of weeks ago, Kaspa dripped some chocolate from his bowl of profiteroles onto the rug.
He cleaned it up, but it left a faint chocolatey shadow on the rug.
As I walked past it, I'd think, "he hasn't cleaned it up properly."
I pointed it out to him. "You haven't cleaned that up properly." "I know", he said, "I'll do it sometime soon."
He didn't do it. I looked at it whenever I walked past it. "He hasn't done it yet," I thought. Some days I let this thought lead to others. "I have to do everything around here." (not true) "If I don't do it, nobody will do it." (not true) "I can't believe he hasn't cleaned it up yet!". "Yet another example of (insert belief)". "I can't believe he hasn't cleared it up yet!" Occasionally I'd say to him, "That chocolate's still there."
Yesterday, I had a revelation.
I could do it myself.
I took a wet sponge from the bathroom. I squirted on a bit of detergent. I gave it a little scrub. The entire process took, what, two minutes from beginning to end? Maximum?
The chocolate stain isn't there any more.
I just told Kaspa what I was going to write about this week. "Yes, I was watching you get worked up about it," he said. "If you hadn't made such a fuss, I probably would have cleared it up myself weeks ago."
Things you might be curious about
When do you create a story around a small event that is more about your story than it is about the small event? What hooks you in? How might you step back and extricate yourself from the story, however juicy and addictive it is?
Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.