Let’s play a game. The inner monologue begins at the start of the day, something to end the endless tasks ahead. So let’s play a game. Data entry is no longer just data, no, it’s now a secret code to a safe that contains a bomb. If I get it wrong, the bomb explodes, if I get it right, then I move onto the next secret code. I listen, watch the numbers, convincing myself that they could change at any time. I actually get the slightest big nervous as my fingers stroke the wrong key. “Shoot! Game over!” Oh wait, I’m not actually part of a bomb squad… okay, backspace, enter the number “4” correctly this time.
Entering names and updating lists is really just me doing my job – my job of updating the most wanted list. And oh! There goes the guy on the street down below my office window. Quick, someone run and grab him, tackle him! He’s the most wanted… erm… CEO of a major corporation who has done nothing wrong. Right, never mind, I’m not some cop searching for the predators of our streets.
When I enter our galley kitchenette, I’m really going into a giant pantry, with millions of possibilities of things to cook. I’m a gourmet chef, serving something amazing from our miraculous, deep cabinetry. I open one cabinet, open another, open another, step back and wonder – what can I make today? What delicious meal can I serve myself? I close all the cabinets because they are full of bitter, high fiber, low calorie food and snag some pretzels out of the giant, plastic bin. Munch, munch, yes, this is my gourmet lunch.
When I take my plant to water it, I’m really in a lush garden with green vines growing so high up the sides of the fence that you cannot even see any connection to the outside world. This fern is a gateway to a land of butterflies, squirrels, and endless rows of flowers and fresh vegetables. I dig my fingers into the dirt, get the warm earth underneath my fingernails and play with the grains on my skin.
Let’s play a game – where imagination can take you everywhere you want to be and no where that you are. The sun is setting somewhere, over a lakefront, with someone lazing in a boat, a line dipping into the water with no intention on catching any fish. This is me, it’s my boat, and my lake, and my house is a short paddle away. I bask in the last of the sunlight for the day and breathe the fresh air deeply into my lungs. This is my life.
The clock ticks lazily over to 4:45pm and I gather my things out of the receptionist area, walk out the front door, jump onto my scooter and rocket myself in between cars – getting home as fast as I can. Right now, I’m a motocross driver, and I’m winning the race.