Dept. of Petty Affairs — Reflection Docket: One Plate Short
Sunday’s my only day off. I cleaned the house, refolded clothes that weren’t mine, wiped detergent out of the dryer, re-washed the load, dumped the trash, even made up the back room bed. Didn’t preach. Didn’t complain. Just kept things moving.
All I asked for was food.
Not a feast. Not a miracle. Just one plate. Instead, I got silence and a “what you talking about?” No anger, no lecture—just that quiet oh well you learn to live with when you’ve spent your last ounce of energy keeping everyone else fed.
That’s the part people don’t get about the Broke Doctrine: it’s not just money. It’s patience. It’s restraint. It’s the choice to stay decent when it’d be easier to snap.
I got a bowl of tuna and a freezer stocked with wings and potstickers. It’ll do. But man—sometimes, it’d be nice if “you good?” came with a plate, not a prayer.
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