My work phone, which I check maybe 700 times a day.
When I step out of the office, on the days I am there, after a full day of work, the sky is milky, often struggling to be blue and the temperature has not yet bottomed out. When I step off the train and start the short walk home from the station, darkness is daubing the sky with its inky fingerprints. In another few weeks, Spring will arrive in earnest in all its bright, welcoming, seven-in-the-evening lightness and I can finally stop wishing for days when the SAD lamp can stay in its drawer.
Cooking is time consuming. I think this even as I am doing it; slicing vegetables, browning chicken, dipping my pinky finger in my giant tub of sugar-free peanut butter while I wait for my black beans to simmer. This time, I think to myself as I baste the pork shoulder for the twentieth time, could be spent writing. Or sleeping. Or marathoning 48 Hours Mystery which I now affectionately refer to as my murder programmes. Cooking is time consuming. But rewarding. Knowing where the food I eat comes from and how it has been prepared has made a great impact on my body; I am sleeping better, my joints ache less and I have the kind of energy that means I am often awake before my alarm, like some kind of godawful morning person.
My brother is getting married and the first of his two weddings is less than seven weeks away. I watch him on the nights he is home as he peruses his to-do lists and checks off an item here or adds one there. There is so much to do and we are all in this; handling websites, corralling guests who have not seen fit to RSVP, sending measurements to dressmakers for the creation of traditional outfits. There are disagreements over weave (and how I refuse to have it in my head, wedding or not) and grand plans for a far-flung honeymoon and I watch as my brother takes it all within his stride and I will wash his plates or roast his chicken because I cannot imagine what it is like to bear the twin responsibilities of a fiancée and not one but two weddings on the same shoulders that must carry a demanding career and the plans needed for taking that career to another continent. These are the little things.