I find myself seeking solace, a freedom from an ongoing ache. Revenge for the betrayal by my very own Vesper Lynd. I may not be the well-dressed James Bond or have the opportunity to shrug off my day to day problems by jet setting off on a secret mission. I do not have a license to kill. I have been running in a perpetual survival mode for quite some time. It’s time to tell M that I need a vacation. Or perhaps I could just fake my death for a couple months. However, that would be risking my current lifestyle since I am the only cog that keeps the whole machine running. I would hate to return and find my house foreclosed, my cat missing and my horde of art in a landfill.
From my experience of working at a mill that runs 24/7, it is not possible to maintain the highest operating speed for an indefinite period of time. Machinery wears and tears, before you know it, a hammermill blows and production grinds to a halt. If the mill had consciousness I’m positive that it would be griping almost daily.
I try not to complain. I settle for a quantum. I find space and time for my mind to be empty in the middle of spin class. I hide out in a coffee shop to put focus on getting my thoughts down on paper. People leave me alone. They don’t continually ask me to make decisions. In these moments, I don’t have to track the budget or make meal plans. I’m not always thinking about the next thing while completing the current.
I need to stop before my hammermill blows up. Before the sparks ignite the dust I’ve allowed to accumulate from weariness and the whole place explodes in hellfire and brimstone. But who wants to upset the apple cart? It’s like watching a dooms day clock and wanting to make a suggestion to save the world that the rest of the survival bunker will not take very well at all. We only have one option, but its means a whole other sort of unpleasantness. But it also means survival.