behind the enforced busy work, so necessary to keep the disquiet of an unfulfilled life at bay; beyond the many and minute tasks, the mundane repetitions that if necessary can fill every waking hour and minute, there is, bubbling up from underneath; the knowledge that there could be more. an awareness that this life is lacking. robustness and accomplishment are absent, pushed aside by fear of falling short, replaced by a concerted effort to avoid risk, thereby achieving nothing of value. choosing instead of the fight, a safe path. pretending satisfaction with good enough; content to accept minimal happiness rather than risk and maybe fall into failure and grief. eschewing efforts to take flight and escape, choosing instead to plod along, subjugated to the black cloud of lurking doubt and the taunting of our fears; committed to time-wasting putterings that ensure an unremarkable life.