I sigh and turn the tap on.
This isn’t because I enjoy cleaning.
I don’t.
I just don’t understand the logic of creating a system and then ignoring it. If there is a dishwasher and your mug fits inside the dishwasher, there should not be a thrilling middle stage where the mug sits in the sink waiting for somebody else to become involved.
Besides, standing still has never done much for my brain.
Walking helps.
Running helps.
Cleaning, apparently, has joined the list.
Give me a problem and something mildly repetitive and my brain starts behaving itself.
I rinse a mug and slot it into the dishwasher.
Behind me the newsroom hums along in its usual organised chaos. Phones ring. Somebody laughs. Somebody else is trying to sound sympathetic while clearly typing an email at the same time. Local news has a particular energy to it. Everything matters enormously until suddenly it doesn’t and you’re sprinting off to care about something else.
I like it.
I like the pace and the feeling that any random Tuesday might unexpectedly become useful.
My phone lights up on the counter.
I glance down.
LinkedIn.
I nearly ignore it because LinkedIn notifications are usually either people congratulating strangers on promotions or articles about leadership written by men who describe themselves as “visionary”.
Then I stop.
I pick the phone up.
Read it.
Read it again.
Helen Archer liked your post.
I stare.
Not because I’m unfamiliar with the concept of social media.
Just because Helen Archer is Editor-at-Large at the London Herald.
Which is not exactly the sort of person who spends her lunch break liking local fire coverage unless she’s catastrophically bored.
I open the notification.
No mistake.
My post.
The one from yesterday.
