FINITE IDEAS

Do you reckon there is a finite number of ideas? I'm only asking because all of social media seems to be a clamour for that new, interesting angle that no-one's thought of yet. Anything to feel clever, funny, new, different, quirky. What happens if there are no more angles left?

It won't have escaped your notice that this idea too is an angle, and that it's being preached at you from a blog, the original unabridged form of social media. I sigh to myself, wearily (is there any other way?) Ah well. I guess I should go back to talking about my day, the one thing I really do have an angle on.

I tried to put up a coat rack in my hall. I botched it. The drill slipped, the holes are too big and the screws don't go all the way into the raw plugs. Oh and I knocked the tub of tiny screws, plugs and spare drill bits over the shoe rack. They went everywhere - into the tongues, eyelets and lace holes, rattling down under the insoles. Putting my shoes on tomorrow will be risky, as will hanging my coat up - an activity that could rip out a metric tonne of plaster, and cover my rucksacks in brick dust.

I also had another moment of defeat at work. Defeat and deflation seem to hang around together - rendering me unable to speak, because the next permutation of moves always results in checkmate, and with me continually feeling pathetic at not being able to explain it. It happens to me a lot, that.

I told the new sales girl about my DIY exploits. She is French. She looked at me as though I were speaking a different language.

It is like chess then. There is a finite number of ideas and that number is massive, so huge you could never find all of them... but you can still end up in checkmate in any number of ways.

I will try again with the coat rack. Maybe new holes half a centimetre lower, and maybe a little deeper. Or maybe I'll just call one of the half-dozen people in my phone book who could help me do it without feeling defeated or deflated.