You know that moment when your sitting on your purple waterproof beanbag in your living room with one window open while it lightly rains outside but you didn’t realise it was raining at first as you could only smell the earthy sent of the droplets mixing with soil (which is actually the chemical geosmin which the human nose is extremely sensitive to being able to detect it at concentrations as low as 5 parts per trillion) and you thought it was just about to rain but then you look outside and it actually is and you have a moment of realisation to yourself about how stupid you are but then you dismiss that thought as it makes no sense, all the while you stare out of the window from your beanbag and see the dark green climbing plants in your garden and wonder what it must be like to be one of them free from the fetters of modern society, unburdened by the pressures to do well, balance life and work but know that you’ll be frowned upon if you care more about your wellbeing than your work and you’ll be judged as lazy if your not stressed and drowning in work 100% of the time but then you turn your attention back to good parts of human life and how you don’t need to conform and you shouldn’t let other people have that control over your life especially if it negatively impacts your wellbeing while you listen to the rain pouring harder and harder as you the sky gets darker and the light from the tall brass floor lamp with the bendy neck thing next to a medium blue sofa bed emits a warm orange glow reminding you of an unattainable rural upbringing where you lived in a small cottage in a forest foraging for berries all day and playing with your friends in the creek and climbing trees before being called home to dinner by your mother who has freshly baked apple pie on the table with diaphanous wisps of steam coming off it but then you snap back to reality before you could bite into its deliciously succulent insides finally you turn away from the window and take a sip from the second glass you’ve brought up from the kitchen that you know you won’t take downstairs, in it is a mixture of 3/4 slightly flat soda water and the other quarter is some warm wine left out by your mother and you think to yourself about how much you are craving spaghetti-O’s and milk because you’ve never eaten them and it feels like another glaring hole in your apparently inadequate childhood when compared to your friends’?