First World Angst

Today I experienced a bout of first world angst. It only lasted five seconds. After that I ate food, resolving all previous problems. Then tonight it happened again, this time for about thirty seconds - maybe more! For half a minute the entire world was against me. Of course, self-awareness yet prevailed, and here I now sit, writing this blog, twisting the truth to make a point. Oh, I've already said too much.

It's not right.

It wasn't enough. That fridge, closing without permission as fridges are wont to do. Sometimes I end up holding it open with my foot while I pour the milk on my cereal over at the bench¹ - I'm quite coordinated like that - and then swivel round to return the milk before the door shuts, all in one fluid motion. But today wasn't just so.

Today, I had toast.

As a man having toast does, I took a plate from the cupboard, a knife from the drawer, the toast from the toaster, and the butter from the fridge. That evil, evil fridge. I'm sure it hates me, for within its lair is where I encountered the terror of the first world.

You see, a man can leave the pantry open when he's borrowing the bread, or even the cupboard above the bench housing the sugar. But the fridge? Nope. Can't do that. Can't leave cold condiments and beverages exposed to the elements. That would be counterproductive. Why, world, why? Why do you make us suffer so? You give us electricity, lots of cool stuff, and an appliance that keeps the food chilled at a constant three degree using negligible amounts of energy. But you make us KEEP THE DOOR CLOSED!? Agh!

Alas, in the five seconds it took me to butter my toast (my finesse with the butter knife is unparalleled, even when the weight of the world appears to be resting upon my shoulders), my frustration quickly tempered. A certain thought, something like, "Oh, right, I have so much more than I… FOOD!" occurred, stopping just short as I began devouring my breakfast.

You must be miserable.

It wasn't until later tonight, in the midst of my shower, that that previous thought was given the time to conclude. Of course, the thing which triggered said thought was a mysterious and perhaps uncanny bout of bipolar disorder going on in the water pipes. For a good thirty seconds, the temperature was bouncing between hot and cold; and the cold wasn't fun. To make matters worse, one of those bounces lasted just long enough for me to think it was permanent and make the water hotter. Suffice it to say that, thanks to my Samoan blood, I came out of that bathroom unscathed --- but just barely. During this second encounter, I was all up in arms at the fact that I shouldn't have to deal with indecisive showers! But in the end, I again became aware of my foolish thinking and, in introspection, thought, "Oh, right, I have so much more than I need. Why the heck am I complaining?"

I don't know the answer to that; but I think the constant pipeline of awesomeness, in the form of technology, food, great people, good weather, stable jobs, convenient healthcare, are all part of the constitution. They're great, make no mistake. But they fuel an insatiable appetite for more. and our capacity for expectation only grows with each subsequent undertaking in first world convenience.

Sort of like this: "I'm complaining about a fridge door shutting. My life must be so boring. OMG, my life is boring! Time to complain!" Like that.

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¹ Sure, I could open it all the way without the need for the whole foot-stabilising, but then the fridge door would slam against the pantry door, which was already left open for added bread-returning convenience.