Knock Knock

  • Knock knock.
  • Who’s there?
  • It’s your conscience.
  • What? You again! Please leave me alone. Isn’t there some tenancy agreement where I get to reside here without your interference?
  • My dear, I’m the tenant. Not you.
  • Shit… You’ve got a complaint then.
  • You should be pleased to see me.
  • Ha! Why would that be?
  • Because, my dear, you are on a tight rope above a crevasse.
  • Ummm no. I’m in the kitchen.
  • You think a kitchen precludes you from falling?
  • What on earth are you talking about?
  • Earth, yes. That’s right.
  • Eh?
  • My dear, I thought you were eating less meat. Do you remember that?
  • Oh give me a break! It’s such a crap year. Are you really going to give me a hard time about that?
  • Tell me about the crap this year.
  • The fires!
  • Yes. And on what do you blame the fires?
  • Oh alright. Smarty pants.
  • Any other crap?
  • COVID19.
  • Ah yes. And what do people say about pandemics and climate change?
  • I get it. I get it. But I love meat.
  • And cows love to eat too, my dear.
  • Eh?
  • A billion people (let’s say, who eat beef)… how many cows are we feeding how many tonnes of grain and grass that we’re growing?
  • Hang on. Hang on. Where’s the tightrope you started with?
  • The tightrope, my dear, between what you really want and your better self.
  • I kicked my better self out. Gave her the flick. It’s much more peaceful that way. She was a pain in the arse. Wanted me to blog every day. Clean my teeth perfectly. Wash all the sheets every week. Verging on OCD, honestly. So I evicted her.
  • No you didn’t.
  • How would you know?
  • Because I’m here.

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