When everything is broken
Last weekend I biked to the gas station up the street to put air in my bike tires. The air at the gas station was broken so I biked to the next gas station 10 more blocks further up the street. I got air in my tires there but when I went to the cash machine to get cash, it was broken. So, I biked to a third gas station to get cash. When I went to the Y last night for the kickboxing aerobics routine, the instructor couldn’t get the sound system to work and his headset connection was hit and miss. The pool was closed because something was broken and when I went to take a shower the showerhead was broken too.
It’s not that broken things inherently bother me. But when the volume of broken stuff around me reaches a certain threshold I start to get a bit huffy. So, when I want to scream, “why is everything broken?” I realize the protest is really…I refuse to be broken with all this stuff that is broken!