I find that most of the time, it's the little things in life that make me the happiest. A five-dollar bill in an old coat pocket, a couple of cold beers I didn't buy that are sitting in the fridge after a long day's work or a pair of new socks fresh out the bag are things that seem insignificant and petty and simple on the surface, but because these things are either so unexpected or just so perfect for the moment, the happiness they produce is about a million times bigger than their face value. Think of it in the 'Priceless' MasterCard kind of way, but instead of watching your kids first steps, my priceless moments are finding an extra roll of toilet paper under the sink when the roll is empty on the wall and I've just finished taking a messy one.
Anyway, another little thing in life that warmed my heart was (not surprisingly if you read this blog) an object I could depend on finding in the bathroom stall at work everyday. With so much to remember and trying to get back into the workday routine, I took solitary refuge in the refuse structure for five or ten minutes each day, with my head spinning and my hands on my well-creased dress pants. My brain was awash with so many codes and protocols whizzing around and I had nothing to bring me down. Then on my third day, I found a rolled up Montreal Gazette sports section jammed in a tiny gap in the door. I leafed through the thing while I did my business and after reading a column or two, I'd forgotten why I was stressed.
Each and every day from that point on, no matter the time, that trusty section would be there for me. And being without internet and cable at home right now, I'd read up on the latest Olympics developments and how our athletes were doing. It comforted me. It was a few moments of sanity and clarity in my days packed with new knowledge and money worries.
I started to rely on those flimsy 8 to 20 pages. I made sure to plan my shits so they happened at work. I thanked the Flying Spaghetti Monster that there was someone bold enough to take that section into the can each morning. I started to imagine what this hero did for a living and what kind of car he drove. Those times in the shitter were the highlight of my day.
That is, until somebody complained on Friday that the Montreal Gazette was disappearing from the lunch room. Instead of taking the complaint and dealing with it by monitoring the newspaper -- or just shrugging off the complaint -- the dedicated human resources company I work for sent out an office-wide memo that afternoon telling us to keep the papers in the lunch room.
I have never been part of an outfit like this. I thought they couldn't be serious. I even laughed when I read the email. Yeah right, like that would deter this newsprint liberator from spreading sports pages to those who are in the only frame of mind to peruse them.
I wasn't laughing Monday though, when I whistled into the stall and closed the door behind me, to find myself alone. I searched in vain for that sports section. Nothing.
It wasn't there on Tuesday. Or Wednesday.
Or today.
I feel as if a part of me has died.
I have one less thing to look forward to each day.
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