I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.

I’ve always been convinced of this theory: the great equaliser.

In life, everything will come to a net gain of zero.

We get born mostly with nothing, and we die with the same amount. Someone walking down the street – great faces often look blah from behind, and vice versa. We all think it some time, oftentimes cloaking that same theory under the “God is Fair” category, don’t we? The smart guy with the horrible personality, the affable girl with the overlooked looks.

That’s life. You win some, you lose some. Highs and lows. In the end, it’s a net zero.

A rose by any other name

Yesterday, I harvested some of the blooms from the front garden. I’ve gotten too lazy to tend to the back garden, so as good as it looks in front (its ok, not all that great) it’s as bad as it looks behind (by that regard, it shouldn’t be all that overgrown). The Windemere rosebush I planted last year is doing wonderfully. The blooms are a delicate pink, scented lightly with a fruity floral note, a very hybrid tea sort of scent; and best of all, it’s one of those peony shaped blooms. I love those. It’s like two plants in one. This spring the plant sprung enthusiastically into production, and I snipped a bounty of blooms. It isn’t even summer yet, so I expect a little more mileage from the bush. I went ahead and planted some lavender last autumn as well, in the front (yeah, it’s a bit of a jungle out there) and harvested some of that as well. It’s very tempting to leave the blooms on the plant till the wilt, because it lasts longer. But pruning the plants and harvesting the blooms encourages the plant to produce more.

So the flowers are snipped, and I’ve not ever been so pleased with the quantity of cut flowers in my home as I was yesterday. The living room smells faintly of roses – the way it should, and not really of lavender which is a little disappointing.

This morning, I decided to give coffee another try. Come on. Millions of people around the world swear by it. Am I really the going to be pretty much the last bastion? So I boil my water, I set up my Aeropress and put the coffee in (one scoop, cos I’m a wuss). I fill the hot water into the number 2.5 line (also cos I’m a wuss). So I pour the water in, and I hear it dripping in even before I stick the plunger in. Eh? Leaky much? So I decide to check on it, I lift the device over the cup and guess what.

Liquid runs over my left hand. Coffee on the sink, the counter, the dishwasher (that was open because it’s my dish rack), the floor. My pyjamas. Oh crap. My hand stings. Water. Cold water. Run run run it over my hand. Grab knife. Slice aloe. Crap one good hand is pretty useless. Oh man, smells putrid. Like armpit. I will endure. Slice slice get the gel. Cold water run run run over raw red hand. Ow pain pain the sting. Dry hand dry hand quick. Slather stinky armpit aloe on. More more ow pain pain!!!

Ah crap. Clean up royal freaking mess in kitchen.

So yes. While my living room now smells heavenly, my kitchen briefly smelled of coffee (remember the sting! Ow!!!) and armpit.

The universe speaks. It’ll all come to nought. To not get pissed at the f**ked up hand and having to clean the kitchen for the lovely roses and lavender in the next room – that takes perhaps a more evolved person than I am.