It’s a Sunday afternoon, and the board have called an emergency meeting. This is their seventh emergency meeting of the year. It’s February. A line of white men pour into the conference room, all visibly shaken; some of them are wearing golf clothes, Mr Evans is still in his pyjamas. His lazy Sunday had been snatched away from him. His wife was at home making brunch for him and his two children when he got the call.
“Thank you all for coming at such short notice,” said Mr Johnson once the men had been seated and the hubbub had died down. Patricia, his secretary, was staring at him from under her glasses, as she sat in the corner ready to type up the minutes. She had half a mind to just copy paste the minutes from the last emergency meeting. Maybe next time she would, just to make a point. Then again, maybe she would just get the point across by staring at Mr Johnson from under her glasses.
Continue reading “Thoughts and Prayers”
The other day, I was in the kitchen, wearing a classic shirt waist dress and an old school apron, chain smoking and generally looking like a discontent housewife, whilst I was cooking a big old home cooked meal for my darling husband. It was his favourite; cheeky Nandos style pot roast. Naturally, I’d never had any, because it’s important that a woman retains her figure, but he seemed to like it, so that’s the important thing.
My darling husband was late. He often arrived late, sometimes with lipstick on his collar, but he swore to me that he wasn’t having an affair so that was the end of that conversation. As I sat alone in the kitchen, with no one to keep me company but my children, I couldn’t help but glance at the salt shaker. It looked so boring. It was just a little ceramic pot with a few holes in it. I hated it. It was dull, drab, desolate, and it reminded me of the limitations of humanity.
I had no such qualms with the pepper shaker. I loved the pepper shaker.
Continue reading “Smalt || Happiness is a Smart Salt Shaker”