How I Learned to Stop Worrying & Love The Ayatolla

Oat milk or goat milk? That is the question.

Yoghurt with sliced banana, or is today more an avocado toast day?

If yes to yoghurt, do I add granola? A teaspoon of honey?

It’s hard for me to make decisions. Thankfully, current events are helping.

• The Ayatollah vows revenge on The Evil State.

No harm in some honey. Now, what to wear: the purple corduroy shirt I wore once last week – smells fine – or a fresh white shirt, which needs ironing?

I ponder that in my dressing gown. 

Imagine unfolding the ironing board. Finding the right angle, plugging, acting out an exaggerated dry run with an elbow swing, rowing one arm forward, checking we’re in the right spot, that I won’t hit anything.

Waiting for the iron to heat up. For forever. Touching it – just so – with my pinky. It’s hot. Wait – is this one of those irons that need topping up with water? Is the grate under the ironing board too bumpy, too pronounced, will it put weird lines in my shirt? Should I cover the board with a towel? 

• An Iranian drone blasts through my balcony window.

Ok, ok, fine. The purple shirt. I’ll just wear a bit more deodorant. Anyway, it’s not that warm outside, it’s only April, and I’m not meeting anyone that important today.

Down to the garage. Did my girlfriend drive the car last? Maybe I need to adjust the rear view mirror – she sets it a few centimetres lower. Also the side mirrors are screwed up. Or I’m just imagining things.

• Loudspeakers – Stay indoors! Take shelter!

I pull out of my building. Is today the day to take the recycling to the special blue bin? I conjure the scene in my mind, my kitchen floor, all the used wine bottles and pasta sauce containers piled up. Surely better to take them now, today, to the glass recycling thingy. Surely best to do that before I clean the house for Pesach.

Let’s run the scenario: I’ll pull over. Head back in the building. Come down with the recycling stuff. Head over to the blue bin with its tiny, teeny hole, pop in item after item, oat milk carton after cereal packet after tissue box, squeezing the big ones through with a push, one at a time.

• A Shaheed missile sears through the sky above my head.

So, the recycling can wait another day. I’ll keep driving. And no, today is not the day to withdraw cash. Even though I’m right by the ATM. And the cleaner is coming next week and she only takes cash. In fact I should probably text her to confirm the time, and actually I do prefer Wednesday…

• Fingers of white phosphorous streak through the morning air.

I’ll think about that later. When I’m in a quiet place, not out here exposed on the road. When I’m sitting in the boho coffee shop with friends for lunch.

Just so you know, I’ve already decided. I’ll have the smoked salmon bagel. The capers are delicious. With an orange juice. Why not.

See, I’m decisive, after all. So proud of myself.

• The cafe is eclipsed in a blaze of fire.

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