Think Outside the Box

I loathe this phrase; this, and "think creatively."  I loathe them not because I don't think it's important to free associate and to challenge conventional thinking, but rather because the person speaking these words invariably does so in a discussion with someone who has already applied his hard-won knowledge of the complexities of a given problem to arrive at a "creative" and "outside the box" solution which is both realistic and addresses the complexities.

These words are simply another way of saying, "Despite the fact that you are an expert in this area and have spent quite a lot of time thinking about this problem, and despite the fact that I am blissfully ignorant of the realities of the situation, I don't like your idea and, because I don't like your idea, I insist that there must be a better one that accomplishes what I want and you're either too stupid or too lazy to have figured out already, though I'll be damned if I know what it is.  Now, please go away and think about this some more and don't come back until you've found a way to do what I want cheaper, faster and with fewer people or I'll replace you with a hundred housebroken circus monkeys at half your pay."

These phrases are meant to be inspirational and motivational, to help us inadequate plebs pry ourselves up and out of the common ooze of our preconceptions and scale the lofty shining heights that only those chosen few, the Truly Inspired have attained.  They are, rather, exasperating and condescending.  They should be eviscerated from our collective vocabulary.

I am, however, forced to think creatively about what I'll do for the next few weeks.  Per our family tradition, Michele and the kids have packed off back to the US for the summer, and I'm knocking around this suddenly-too-large city on my own.  Normally, it takes a while for the ennui to set in - I usually spend a few weeks dissipating and eating takeaway curry at midnight in my underwear off an upturned laundry basket, but this summer's different.  The house suddenly seems too big and empty.  The front hallway, normally a riot of school-clothes and book-bags and homework folders and shoes and rollerblades and umbrellas is now almost pitifully neat.  I've taken to hanging up my clothes and making the bed every morning.  I tried to sleep in today but woke groggily from a dream at 8.00 and couldn't get back to sleep.  My plans for the weekend consist of returning library books and then...absolutely nothing at all.  I normally welcome some downtime and a bit of solitude, but I was actually excited when the window cleaners came around at breakfast, their deferential noises tripping oddly over the tightened springs of their Cockney accents.

Today is actually a lovely day, and I really should get out and enjoy it - there aren't many of these left - but doing what?  My friends are all working or have other plans or have families to look after.  Reading in the garden is a possibility, but I'm not sure I could do that all day.  I could go to a park but the tube is shut.  I've done all of the touristy stuff already.  I could dust off my camera and wander around taking pictures, I suppose.

Oh, wait - the clouds have rolled in.  I think I'll take a nap.

How's that for outside the box?