I’m thinking sometimes, a little sad in all right, that would have been really great if this world would have been governed by children and their thoughts. Let everything be as if of gingerbread and smell of pumpkin and oranges, plus a dash of vanilla. I suppose that if it were so, Russian children would have attacked Ukraine with snowballs or water guns labeled “Wetty”. How in less than three days I will be free of contract from some people at least stressed, I would have bought the ads newspaper and I would have certainly noted on a notebook the phone number for that interesting job, small, plump and playful kitten brusher. Or, the other, drinking whole waves of lime tea and reading entire battalions of books, although this one requires at least a decade minimal experience on similar position and a portfolio of at least ten shelves, excluded Sandra Brown. In the worst case scenario, I would have applied for a job of smiles and hugs supplier for the employees of major companies, such as those from which I leave now.
I wonder how would it be to work, so to speak, like ice cream taster? Or as a storyteller of fairy tales for small children? You arrange your apron leisurely, you clean up your throat and make up fantastic stories, as you learned in training school. Or, if you don’t have any special skill, sunflower seeds shelling at the block’s stair, with a PhD in gossiping neighbors.
I would also look up in newspaper for snails houses with attic. Clean, quiet, bright, modern. Or I would hire a money maker. Eventually, I would like to hire me a personal travelling guide, for travelling a lot, silly and pointless. And I would very much like to hire a talkative old lady, if possible with a Transylvanian accent, to bewitch me with wonderful stories and keep me awake all night long.
Oh, and, before I forget! I would like to apply for a job as loyal listener. Of radio too, if necessary, but mostly listener of beautiful stories of love or life. I’m pretty amazing at being quiet and listen. I would even take out a notebook, to write down!
I wonder how it would be like to get hired as “life adviser”? To advise people: “You know, it would be great not to lose nights on the internet, in ten years you’ll regret the bags under your eyes. Or maybe it might be a good idea to go softer on smoking and stop acting as if you’re a kitten with 9 life points, you may still want some years to live, bonus… Just saying. And you don’t need to wait until you’re 40 to have a baby, maybe you still want to be around when your kid will celebrate adulthood… “
I would have also very much liked if there were feelings and relationships plumbers. You made a silly thing and you neglected your lover. Or maybe you deceived your lover. Maybe you told her some harsh words in the steams of your last quarrel, hard words, to feel them! And now you kinda regret them… Or maybe if you would have told him this or that ever since back then, things would have been different… But now everything has passed and it’s done.
How would it be to take the newspaper tactfully, pick the best firm of feelings plumbers, establish an appointment for an interview, do some anxious lap-laps around the house wringing your fingers (because the deed you committed is horrible and it’s kind of unlikely that something can really be done about it). If it was something minor, you would have used the “the day after mistake pill” and it would have cured quickly and without scarring. But your case has passed the stage of “treatable with pills and teas”…
The plumber would arrive, he would briefly knock on your door, you would rush to open as Tom did when it called the mice exterminator, you would invite him into your home, would serve a cup of coffee and you would tell him with embarrassment and anxiety what happened. He would listen to you while stroking his mustache bored, like any man practicing this job for about three decades and who has seen a lot in his life, then he would fumble the toolbox for the right tools for your mistake, maybe – no, a bigger hammer, your case is more serious, and he would put the helmet on his head, goggles on his eyes and he would crawl down to his knees under the cobweb piping of your relationship. He would thump busily, here it must be cut a bit, here sealed with some silicon, a bit of muttered curses, “scissors”, “tweezers”, done! He would come out a little sweaty and dusty, you would exhale released, done, look, the deed is mended, you reach for your wallet, pay, maybe slip a bribe in his pocket, eh, he saved you from a huge problem! He would thank you embarrassed, “oh, you really shouldn’t have..!”, he would give you some advice and a list of bad habits to avoid in the future, then he would climb into his van and would go to the next case of irreparable damages.
In the meantime, let’s see what job I will end up with in the next few days. Somehow, I tend to think it will not be nearly as interesting as any of the aforementioned.
Șoapte...
Tags: Italo Calvino – Invisible Cities, personal train, utopia, youth without old age
