Groundhog Day, Every Day

Just like there are re-runs of programmes like The Simpsons and Friends shown endlessly on TV at exactly the same time each day, that you can set your watch by and can be safe in the knowledge that you've seen them all before, my mind plays re-runs.

Admittedly there are a few original thoughts that flash through the old cranium. But aside from these rare and exotic things, there is pretty much a loop of the same thoughts that occur to me at round about the same time each day that I never think about except at that moment, day in, day out. I have endeavoured to remember them out of context.

When I push down the cafetiere most mornings I always think how much it sounds like a sound effect from Star Wars, the Death Star atmospherically ploughing through a galaxy far, far away perhaps, or Dr Who when the Tardis is embarking on travelling through the space time continuum.

When I use the remote control, usually about Neighbours time, that statistic about how many germs and bodily fluids are present in the peanut bowls at bars always occurs to me as I muse over how many grubby little fingers have poked at the volume and channel buttons.

When I am making use of a towel, after a shower or the like, I am always reminded of that riddle: what gets wetter the more it dries? A towel. This is rather clever and I wish I didn't know the answer so that I could think on it and be delighted by the solution to the riddle.

When I am alone in the house and venturing into the pantry I always imagine what it would be like if I accidentally shut the door and was trapped inside. I suppose there are worse places to be trapped as at least there are plenty of provisions in a pantry. But I always see myself as a decomposing corpse in rigor mortis, look of horror on my bloodless face, when discovered by returning family.

When returning from the pantry I always contemplate life itself and the transient nature of it and all I have achieved in my own short existence as I see it flash before my eyes when tripping over all the shoes strewn across the floor, narrowly avoiding a broken neck.

All these thoughts and more are touched on, however fleetingly, each day as they are provoked or inspired by whatever external activity I am involved with. Often to the point of annoyance as I feel like saying 'Yes, I know that, I have thought that before, many a time, get out of my head and leave me to be otherwise cerebrally disposed'. I am trapped in a loop of my own thoughts.