#politely — Public Fediverse posts

HOT SAUCE APOCALYPSE

Yesterday the lunch place had run out of hot sauce.

In Australia, this is barely news.

Aussies don’t really do hot sauce.

But some of us do.

Some of us have built whole fragile emotional ecosystems around a few drops of chilli on lunch.

I agreed to sweet chilli sauce instead, because apparently I am very mature.

But I did register my disappointment with the manageress.

Politely.

Firmly.

Historically.

Then I went for my walk.

Then I did my breathwork.

Then I noticed the day still had a slight dent in it.

This caught me off guard.

I had only just been saying that everything is perfect all the time now.

Apparently, “everything” includes the lunch place running out of hot sauce and me quietly wanting the owner told so this national disgrace never happens again.

That is how the ego works.

It does not just want lunch.

It wants justice.

And there it was.

Not a catastrophe.

Not a spiritual failure.

Just a tiny place where preference had turned into grievance.

The hot sauce was missing.

The peace was not.

I had simply misplaced it for a moment under the sweet chilli sauce.

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