Eating

More or Less part II

At the stroke of 12.30, I leave my desk and take my lunch out of the kitchen fridge. The apogee of my day is not home time – rather, it is this oasis in the middle of the day. I imagine my feelings about lunchtime to be equivalent to the feeling sailors experience when they see land after a long voyage.

In the kitchen, I sometimes engage in small talk with my colleagues about this or that task, which I bring to an end quickly. I snatch one of the company-provided newspapers, put it under my arm and find a table to eat at – the table second from the window. I sweep some crumbs, existent and otherwise, from the table top, put my lunch down and snap open my newspaper. I peel the plastic wrap off my sandwich, put a corner in my mouth and read.

It is not until around one o’clock that my other colleagues come out. By then the only thing left of my lunch is a ball of cling wrap on the table. I am well into the paper by now – none of it will I remember or take back with me to my desk. My colleagues sit near me, not at my table but at the next one by the window. We talk – I stop reading for that. I play with my tie. When the women aren’t around, the talk is about sex, about escapades, made up and real. It is now that they share their secrets. That they boast.

At 1.15, I push my chair back and get up. I put the paper back together and offer it around. The others show me their palms. No. I tell them to enjoy their lunch and they nod. I put the paper under my arm, the small ball of plastic wrap in my hand. I squeeze it. I pick my teeth with my forefinger. At my desk, I recline in my chair, the back fitting the contours of my spine, as far as it will go. I put my hand on my mouse – it fits into the cup-shape my hand makes. Business, my job, usurps my thoughts and attention.

–

I Showering
II Eating
III Washing up
IV Television
V Intercourse

Lead Igloo

Related posts:

1. Showering
2. Television
3. The sleeper