- heat
- catastrophes
- things that scare/disturb you a lot
Today Sunday was mostly chill. It was hot outside and in, but I am borrowing a fan, which creates anti-heat. No catastrophes have happened today, at least not in the direct vicinity of my bed, which is where most of my day has been wrought. Part of today Sunday was super unchill, and it involved the last thing on the list above.
The evening was winding down and I was relaxed on my bed. I am of the opinion that Sundays are great days for intellectual endeavors, generally being less filled with cockamamie distractions and responsibilities than other days. This rang true today, and I endeavored my intellect. When feeling intellectual and endeavorous, I am wont to listen to instrumental music. The reason for this is that I love music. A lot. However, when I listen to music that I know well and that has lyrics, it's hard for me not to get caught up in singing or analyzing the song that's playing. When I listen to calmer instrumental music, I can listen and enjoy it without getting too distracted. This allows me to focus fully on my endeavor.
Today, I put some Rachmaninoff on my Spotify. It was relaxing and intellectually stimulating, and fit the bill just right. As I focused on my endeavor, I kind of forgot about the music. I knew it was playing, but was so focused and had it quiet enough that it didn't register in my mind that Spotify was even still on. However, Spotify is catty and jealous and craved my attention so much.
If you're familiar with Spotify, you know how it works: you sign up and can listen to any music they have in their expansive library for free. The caveat, however, is that with the free version, they play commercials from time to time to offset costs. These commercials come at supposedly arbitrary intervals, but realistically right when you're getting most into the music and least want them. This was no exception in my narrative. With me having forgotten about the music almost entirely, Spotify viewed this as the perfect time to recapture my attention. My peaceful Sunday focus was obliterated by a commercial, which, for some reason, had to be played at a volume that was much louder than the volume at which the music was playing. And I suppose it wouldn't have been that bad if that were the only problem; I probably would've simply been startled and gone back to work. But it was also the word that started said commercial, and therefore the word that jarringly snatched me from my peaceful, cynosural zen:
constipation
Imagine being completely focused in peace and quiet and thinking you're alone, when all of a sudden someone sneaks up behind you and says in a monotone, matter-of-fact voice, "constipation." Experience my experience. And as if that weren't enough, I was stuck there—frozen in horror, still stunned from surprise, only able to sit there helplessly as I was aurally assaulted by some hussy going on about constipational discomfort and why I needed relief. Congratulations, Spotify. You've got my attention. I don't need relief. Constipation is not matter-of-fact. You know nothing about my needs, or my bowels. Plus, your commercial and its tactics were startling enough that any bowel obstruction I may have had previously would've been resolved on the spot. Maybe you should've thought this one through a little better, hmm? Keep your vociferous constipation to yourself from now on, thanks.
