I am ending today feeling an enormous sense of satisfaction. I would go as far as to say I feel profoundly satisfied. This feeling is totally disproportionate to the scale of the task that has provoked this response, namely filling up the windscreen fluid bottle in my car. Why doing this has resulted in such euphoria is a bit of a mystery. Maybe it’s because the job’s been high up on the to do list for a few weeks. Maybe it’s because I know how irritated I’ve been with myself when I’ve pressed the little button and remembered that I’ve run out. Maybe it’s because after more than a week of barely leaving my bedroom, it’s good to feel I’ve done something – however small. Maybe it’s because, despite late C20th changes to notions of gender traits and gender roles, car stuff is still often seen as “a man’s job” or “a boy thing” by many; refilling the container maybe so easy that it’s barely worth commenting on, but I find that any task that involves lifting the bonnet feels like a feminist statement – two fingers to patriarchy, I can keep my own windscreen clean! Or maybe this feeling of satisfaction is simply a bit of a high from the super duper painkillers I’m still dosed up on. Who knows – but I’m sticking with my feminist interpretation.

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