todayiamadaisy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
todayiamadaisy) wrote2022-01-08 02:20 pm
todayiamadaisy) wrote2022-01-08 02:20 pm
Entry tags:
Are perfunctory endeavours usually efficacious?
A slow day, so here is a story from last year:
I.
When my mother was a little girl, her best friend was called Noelene. Noelene's family lived on the next farm over, both farms being big tranches of land outside a tiny town called Purnim. My mother will wax lyrical about the idyllic days she and Noelene spent riding their horses to each other's houses, or to the shop, or to the tennis court, or around the paddock. Eventually Noelene's family moved to a farm further east, and they lost touch.
II.
In January last year, my work employed a new accountant called Brooke. She's nice. We've both been working from home for most of the year, but for the last month or so we've been back in our newly-renovated office, where we have adjoining desks. Brooke isn't from the City by the Sea; she lives in the shire to the east.
III.
In late December, one of our colleagues stopped by for a chat, saying she had to go and pick someone up from hospital and she didn't know what she would have to do. Would she be allowed in? My mother had been in hospital for a day procedure (nothing serious) a couple of weeks earlier, so I told her my experience: there was a separate desk in the foyer for picking up people, where I had to go in and say I was there to pick up Pauline Daisyname, then wait until she came out, quite separate from the waiting area for people going in.
When our colleague left, Brooke turned to me and said, "Did you say your mother's name was Pauline Daisyname? Like, is that a married name?"
"No," I said, "that's her maiden name."
"How old is she?"
"Seventy-one," I said, and I thought I knew where this was going. My mother was a midwife and district nurse for a long time, so she probably delivered Brooke or visited her ailing relatives or some such, but her next question surprised me.
"Where did she grow up?"
"On a farm near Purnim. Why?"
Brooke blinked. "My mum's Noelene."
IV.
It is a small world.
January
8. Would you rather be able to see 10 minutes into your own future, or 10 minutes into the future of anyone but yourself?
I think ten minutes into my own future is very likely to be ten minutes further into me doing whatever I'm doing at any given point. I mean, ten minutes from now, I will probably still be sitting on this sofa, just with an empty cup rather than one full of tea. But ten minutes into anyone else's future, well, that's bound to be more interesting, isn't it? Even if they're sitting on a sofa with a cup of tea, it will at least be a different sofa and a different cup.
I.
When my mother was a little girl, her best friend was called Noelene. Noelene's family lived on the next farm over, both farms being big tranches of land outside a tiny town called Purnim. My mother will wax lyrical about the idyllic days she and Noelene spent riding their horses to each other's houses, or to the shop, or to the tennis court, or around the paddock. Eventually Noelene's family moved to a farm further east, and they lost touch.
II.
In January last year, my work employed a new accountant called Brooke. She's nice. We've both been working from home for most of the year, but for the last month or so we've been back in our newly-renovated office, where we have adjoining desks. Brooke isn't from the City by the Sea; she lives in the shire to the east.
III.
In late December, one of our colleagues stopped by for a chat, saying she had to go and pick someone up from hospital and she didn't know what she would have to do. Would she be allowed in? My mother had been in hospital for a day procedure (nothing serious) a couple of weeks earlier, so I told her my experience: there was a separate desk in the foyer for picking up people, where I had to go in and say I was there to pick up Pauline Daisyname, then wait until she came out, quite separate from the waiting area for people going in.
When our colleague left, Brooke turned to me and said, "Did you say your mother's name was Pauline Daisyname? Like, is that a married name?"
"No," I said, "that's her maiden name."
"How old is she?"
"Seventy-one," I said, and I thought I knew where this was going. My mother was a midwife and district nurse for a long time, so she probably delivered Brooke or visited her ailing relatives or some such, but her next question surprised me.
"Where did she grow up?"
"On a farm near Purnim. Why?"
Brooke blinked. "My mum's Noelene."
IV.
It is a small world.
January
8. Would you rather be able to see 10 minutes into your own future, or 10 minutes into the future of anyone but yourself?
I think ten minutes into my own future is very likely to be ten minutes further into me doing whatever I'm doing at any given point. I mean, ten minutes from now, I will probably still be sitting on this sofa, just with an empty cup rather than one full of tea. But ten minutes into anyone else's future, well, that's bound to be more interesting, isn't it? Even if they're sitting on a sofa with a cup of tea, it will at least be a different sofa and a different cup.