Longer ago than I care to admit, a heavy object fell from a top shelf and whacked my open computer screen on it’s descent.
It took a couple of days for me to notice the mark – the size of a pinprick. It could have been worse and with time it did become worse. Creeping up like decay. Or ageing. My daily encounters with my computer ensured an easy reception as I soon got used to the embellishment. Even when the tiny hole became a line. And later when the line became many lines. For some time I have been using the paper equivalent of an ink smudged page. I work around it becoming adept at writing blind. I will type and hope that my text will display the way I intended it to.
One day during the summer, I was sat at a picnic table facing the sea and chatting to some friends. My mobile was in front of me as it often is and I was fiddling with it as I often do. I must have pressure on my phone which was face down. I heard a tiny crack and sure enough I had sent a fissure through the face. And yet again I thought I can work around this.
Our neighbour doesn’t have off-street parking. She does have a new boyfriend and he has started staying over. Our car is the casualty of this new romance as her suitor parks his car on the stretch of road outside our house. There aren’t that many places to park on our street, and only a handful that don’t have a tree towering overhead. This time of the year those trees are home to birds who feed on ripe berries and promptly poo them out. Our car looks like it’s been under siege. Splattered across my windscreen are knobbly purple splodges impervious to the wipers. They mostly gather in the corners so yet again I work around the aerial bombardment, short-changing myself to a clear view.
That’s three of my lenses on the world blighted and I’ve been doing nothing about it. Well no more.
This week I have become very aware of my personal perspective and to the steps I can take to improve it. I’m reminded of a dear friend. A glass half full person whose joie de vive is infectious. After an encounter with her, life looks brighter, clearer, crisper. It isn’t just down to her warmth and wisdom. During our chats she’d reach out and take my glasses off my face, fog the lenses and wipe them clean before popping them back.There wouldn’t be so much as a pause in our conversation. What skill, what a friend. What clarity that simple act would bring.
So this week I am attending to my physical outlook. I’ve cleaned my windows (and glasses), washed and hoovered my car and I’ve made an appointment with a “Genius” in Apple. Things are looking better already.