Squeezing the last drops of toothpaste out of a tube can take on deep philosophical meaning if you dwell on it long enough.
Let's face it, there's a lot going on in the world, and often it seems there's little you can do to influence events.
Congratulations on passing the perspective test here, but in acknowledging this reality a person shouldn't dare to dream.
Which gets us back to the toothpaste.
I'd been muscled out of the bathroom yet again by those who apparently have priority when getting ready for work.
Exiled to a less glamorous mirror in the house during the daily battle of ablution because obviously, someone lacked influence.
Usually confirmed by the argument that someone else got to the bathroom first.
Or they're more important.
It seemed timely to reflect on this as the news broadcast over the radio.
So many people trying to influence me - ScoMo, Bill, Theresa, Donald, Isael, God.
At the macro level, it seemed there was little I could do to influence events, people and concepts, save enter into a debate about freedom of speech.
But as I stared at the mirror reflecting, I realised there was something I could do to influence something very important right in front of me, at a micro level. Maybe nano.
I could work out a way to get the last bit of toothpaste from the tube.
The bane of many existences, particularly if you're the one who has to always roll it up and squeeze it hard to see if there's anything left, which if you lack influence, you will be.
Squeezing the last drops out of the toothpaste can hurt your fingers, often triggering the thought, why not just throw the thing in the bin and break out the new tube? And that's fair enough too, because it IS tough on the cuticles, and there IS a new tube under the sink.
But what about all the waste? you hear someone ask. Usually the person who doesn't do all the desperate squeezing.
And indeed, what about it?
Even though you suspect, with hydraulic equipment, you could strangle a couple more coagulated chunks out of it - is it worth the effort?
Well, if you've got Depression-era parents, of course it is, and the thought suddenly struck the other morning this was something I could influence.
So I cut the top off the tube with scissors, and man, it was like discovering dental dipping sauce for a toothbrush.
There had to be at least one-fortieth worth of toothpaste still left in the tube, maybe even a forty-fifth.
It led me to question how fair dinkum the creators of the tube delivery system have been about efficiency when applied to toothpaste. I don't even want to talk about sunscreen.
I'd been rolling all my life instead of cutting to the chase, but this was a breakthrough and our teeth were the better for it.
Thus, in the ever constant quest for influence in a complex world - no matter how minor - I was briefly all smiles.