“I step outside to breathe fresh air for two minutes and have such a nice time that I briefly consider doing it again tomorrow, for two and a half minutes.”
At work, the message system breaks down, and the only ping I receive is from my microwave—it’s finished melting sharp cheddar onto a slice of stale gluten-free bread.
I once again play dead in an attempt to get my dog’s attention, and it finally works—he briefly sniffs me before returning to the more pressing matter of squirrels and their whereabouts. I read four paragraphs of a book without being interrupted by overwhelming existential dread. Midway through the fifth paragraph, I pick up my phone to search “polar bear still have ice 2022?”I have what I assume is a horrible nightmare about the end of the world, but it turns out that I was just having a semiconscious nap with the news on.