- 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.
Knock Knock
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