I found a note in my porridge.
Most (every) morning I start the day with a bowl of Quaker’s Oats porridge. I use one sachet to ensure I’m not being overindulgent, and it keeps me going till lunch.
A note fell out of the last sachet I tore open, like those toys used to do in cereal boxes. I felt it was merely excessive packaging, a manufacturing fault. But then I turned it over.
”Does this make you happy?”
Of course I didn’t think much of this. Well, no, that’s a lie, of course I did think much of this.
I wondered if this note had been placed within a batch of boxes, a joke from some disgruntled employee, toiling away on the factory lines. That would make sense.
But then, it felt too personal. Like it had been handwritten specifically for me. I’d been pursuing and changing a number of things, to improve my well being.
Like moving into my flat on my own.
I spent quite some time lying on the kitchen floor. Enough time to know exactly what needed doing in fact. I pulled myself up, poured milk over the oats, notes and all, then set the timer to two minutes on the microwave.
Eating away the questions for breakfast, now that made me happy.