Week 1, observation 1.
I always wondered how much of ourselves bleed into our actions; how much we subconsciously reveal and then release into the world, set free to be seen and judged by others. When I use the tip of my elbow to press the pedestrian button to cross the road, did anyone notice? Did anyone see that and know I didn’t want to touch the plethora of germs that live there? That I have a low-key fear of germs and getting sick? Could someone possibly deduce that my distaste for germs is prominent enough that I broke up with a boy I’d been dating when he gave me tonsillitis in year 12? Probably not. Or maybe so?
Yesterday morning- Sunday morning- just like every other Sunday morning since the dawn of time- mum arrived home from the gym with groceries. After I helped bring them in from the car, and had them all piled on the kitchen counter, I noticed something.
Through the cloudy obstruction of the white plastic bags was a single colour palette. I scanned to the next bag, yes… another single palette. I peered inside the bag: carrots, tomatoes, capsicums, apple juice, savory shapes. The next bag: avocados, lettuce, zucchini.
Someone had colour coordinated our groceries. Perfectly.
Who had done this? Why? Was the act of sorting our fruit and veggies into their designated colour scheme, as soothing as it is for me to look at them now? Is this a physical by-product of OCD or was the shift at work just getting dull? I wondered all these things as I quietly chuckled to myself. I didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, yet I felt like I did. I felt like if I went back to the Happy Apple Green Grocer now I’d be able to recognise the person responsible. We’d make eye contact and give a slight nod and a knowing smile to each other. As if to say “Nice one”