The little things

Things to make Vic happy, even briefly:

Folding the last piece of clothing from the mammoth two-weeks worth of washing spree.

Watching the petrol gauge rise to the full mark.

All the candles in my bedroom lit while the room is tidy and uncluttered. Being able to read in this light.

Clean sheets and pillowcases.

Having my cat, who is fairly independent and stand-offish, tentatively come onto my lap for warmth and comfort.

Watching a child’s face when they realise that yes, indeed, after a week of dedicated practise they can play their set work really well. Watching that realisation turn to excitement about what they might be able to with that sort of effort consistently.

Running in the sun, playing frisbee with friends.

Dancing.

Performing.

Dancing and performing at the same time.

Imagine a whole onion display littered with loose onion skins all through it. Imagine Vic sticking the nozzle of the vacuum cleaner right into the thick of it and sucking all those little floaty fuckers into oblivion. Happiness in the execution, happiness at the outcome – onion skin free display, which also means onion skin free shop floor and surrounding displays. Nobody seems to understand this – it must be bordering on an obsessive compulsive thing. Those bastard skins get everywhere, and the relief I feel to be rid of them is about the same as that feeling after a hard and fast shag.

Knowing that I’m looking good.

Getting set up to shave. The process of shaving my upper lip and sideburns. Being able to feel the smooth bits afterward and still be fascinated by it.

Good coffee.

That first session of playing a guitar after I’ve oiled the fretboard and put on a new set of strings.

Getting a random visit from someone with a gorgeous smile on a cold and miserable evening.