The mundane is adventure.

To me at least.

I've surprised myself on my travels that I can sit and watch the most mundane events, and be swept up in a glorious storm of thought and speculation about the people i'm watching. Everybody does it.

This morning, from my Y room, I watched three ladies back up their ute (pick-up) to a big bin. Two of them (why not three??) popped on those paper thin protective white suits.

Two of them (a different pair... why not three?) popped on face masks. It was then that I began to witness a well-oiled machine at work.

It was a symphony of precision movement, getting all this rubbish into the dumpster. I noticed two of them had large Iced Americanos (yet another fascinating combination, why not three?) waiting on the hood of their ute for the thirsty work to be over.

This action held my attention until they got all their crap in the bin. I even caught myself saying "phew".

Maybe it's that i'm staying at the Y, that these things grab me with a new profundity. I love the Y.