I can’t find my gym pants. I can’t understand where there can be. I go to the gym in my gym pants. Then I come back in them. Then I either put them in the dirty wash or back into my gym bag. There is nowhere else they can go. And now I can’t find them anywherw. How does one explain these missing things? When I was twelve I remember coming back from a school football match wearing two pairs of underpants. As my mum said at the time, that was an aberration but what of the other boy who came home with no underpants at all. Had he not noticed? At twelve you might not, but at my age? Where are those gym pants? It has ruined my regime. I can’t find an alteranative. My gym shorts are too brief for weather that has turned a bit chilly. It breaks open my entire routine, this misplacement. And then one things leads to another. If you can’t find the pants you can’t do the exercise and if you can’t do the exercise you go about your business with guilt and the guilt contaminates. I am going to spend ten minutes now having a proper root around to resolve this issue once and for all. What usually happens in these cases is that you resolve in yourself the conclusion that life is a a random contingent material, only for many years later for the transgressive article to turn up in some odd corner of the flat. What you must do then is accept that the world is not so contingent, but rather that you are just plain rubbish. A banal but necessary admission, as we have come to accept.

http://www.peoplearerubbish.com