Sometimes, I wish I was a sheep
By Ellen Lundy
Sometimes, I wish I was a sheep. Not metaphorically. Literally. A full-time, pasteurised professional with a naturally occurring fluffy white coat and a species-wide commitment to doing absolutely nothing of consequence.
As a sheep, my biggest daily dilemma would be: grass here, or grass slightly to the left? No outlook inbox. No passive aggressive WhatsApp project group chats. No desperate text asking if I can ‘just quickly’ cover a shift at the Spar I’ve worked in since I was 15 filled with empty promises of reciprocity. No one has ever looked at a sheep and said, ‘Hey, I know it’s your only day off this week and you’re only meant to work one shift at the weekend, but could you come in for a few hours?’
Sheep do not receive Canvas notifications that begin with ‘gentle reminder’ and end with experiencing the final stages of psychosis. Look into a sheep’s eyes and you’ll find no trace of the heartbreak that comes from watching the clock strike 12.01 as your assignment uploads a second too late – the ultimate act of sabotage orchestrated by the McClay WiFi moving at the speed of the average man’s replies on Tinder.
A sheep wakes up. It stands. It grazes. It stares into the middle distance with an expression that says, ‘I have a mind not plagued by the thought of rent due on the first.’ Its friends are always available. They also graze. Sometimes they run in a small, chaotic circle for no reason at all. That’s enrichment. That’s joy. Not a single one of them is networking. They know peace for they do not know that LinkedIn exists.
Meanwhile, I am scheduling my breakdown between a shift I don’t want and an assignment I didn’t know existed until last night, fantasizing about a creature that will never have to attend an assessment centre.
A sheep does not worry about the future for they do not understand it. They needn’t stress over what they cannot control. Whatever comes their way, good or bad, will be met with the same distant expression of complete indifference.
If I were a sheep for a day, I would relish life in a community that openly demands herd mentality and is spared the hypocrisy of a society that ridicules women for conforming while punishing them for not. I would position myself comfortably low in the leadersheep hierarchy, content to remain unremarkable and safely distant from any grassroots revolutions. I’d claim a modest patch of field as my own small kingdom and graze there in blissful simplicity.
Yes. It is decided. I would like to unsubscribe from capitalism and pay a lifetime subscription to the fields of green. I want problems that can be solved by chewing. I want goals that can be achieved by standing still.
I don’t need ambition or a degree. I need hooves and a complete lack of 5G.
(DISCLAIMER: This article romanticises the sheep experience. No sheep were harmed, nor consulted, in the making of this piece).
