The so-called Silly Season makes me think of two things:
1. How much room I have in my fridge for wine and chocolate; and
2. How incredibly lucky I am to have such a problem.
I bet you're pretty comfortable right now, sitting in a chair in front of a computer that you either own, or are paid to use. Let's take a moment to think of those who aren't fortunate enough to be able to waste time reading second-rate poetry.
Slow internet. Bulimia. Cold toast. Compulsive shopping.
A bottom-heavy ratio of ice-cream to fudge topping.
A peak-hour train that rushes past the station without stopping.
A queue for every toilet on a plane.
Obesity. Chipped nailpolish. Preservatives. Oil prices.
Erratic connectivity in wireless devices.
A ‘what-shoes-will-I-wear-to-Auntie-Donna’s-wedding’ crisis.
White pants with an unsightly beetroot stain.
Stale biscuits. Tuneless orchestras. Keith Urban. Awful cooking.
Bike couriers who ride through intersections without looking.
Hotels that can’t recall what guests requested upon booking.
Marquees that gather puddles in the rain.
Malaria. Corruption. School-aged soldiers. Home-made shoes.
Imprisonment and torture for those with seditious views.
Too many civil wars to fit in half an hour of news.
No energy, from starving, to complain.