I got into Maine at gone eleven last night after nine hours of travel. The warmth of South Carolina gave way to sub-zero temperatures and a foot of snow. Aeroplanes were being de-iced before take-off, which was a new thing for me.
Anyway, I walked to the hotel, dumped my bag and slumped on my bed… and realised there was a terrible drone going on all the time which was not just the echo of the aeroplanes’ engines knocking around my head.
2.7 seconds of investigating lead me to the air-conditioning unit. It was almost midnight, several degrees below freezing and this wretched thing was blasting cold air into my room.
It got turned off.
That’s probably a terrible thing in America, but I don’t need it.
I wonder how much I have going on in life which is there simply because someone, somewhere, has said it should be?
I don’t know, but I think the ‘off switch’ might be one of the most precious things we could learn to use. Talking of which, I’m going to sign off now...
I wonder if I ought to turn it back on before I go?
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