We all agree that the world is a bleak nightmare of horrors from which the only respite is death. The degree to which you experience the bleakness and horribleness of life depends largely on your geographic location and your socioeconomic status, as you know the horrors of life are not evenly distributed. In my neck of the woods, I'm likely to experience nothing worse than a screechy girl in active wear who orders her coffee in an incredibly piercing voice in the line in front of me (what are you a morning person or something? Fuck off.) Proper atrocities such as poverty, war, and Donald Trump's hair are only witnessed via the internet or televised broadcast.

I first noticed the bleakness and horribleness of life on Earth when I gained sentience. I was probably about 2 or 3. I was playing with my toys in a blissful state of ignorance, as I had experienced very little in the way of bleakness or horror at this point. Sure, I grew up in a family who couldn't afford heating, didn't believe in school or vaccinations, and didn't have a TV, but even in that situation, New Zealand is pretty sweet bro.

There was a knock on the door. My mother opened it, and there was a boy, about 15, holding the tiniest, whitest, scaredest looking kitten I had ever seen. My baby heart raced as my brain flooded with oxytocin. The kitten! The kitten was life.

It was probably about 10pm (my parents didn't believe in bedtimes since neither of them worked).

The boy told my mother he had found the kitten abandoned in a dumpster. I begged her to let us keep it. She did, which was the best thing that had ever happened, but it made me start to think.

Out there, in the world, were the types of people who could abandon this tiny precious creature into a dumpster and then just walk away, and never be plagued with the certain knowledge that they are pure heartless evil. I realised, in my small just-gaining-a-larger-perspective-on-the-world brain that it wasn't even really their fault that they were like that. Something had to have caused it, probably something even worse than them. I shuddered, and clasped my newly adopted feline close. He was to be named Bagira (which was to later degenerated into "Baggy-bum" - a choice Australianism that I think my imported mother was probably responsible for).

 In spite of much bleakness, I also noticed that sometimes all it takes to motivate yourself to continue (and continue having hope for our collectively doomed species) is the smallest, most miniscule thing imaginable.

I am not what most people would call socially gregarious. I can be, for work, but it's that customer service bullshit smile, behind which you know I'm probably vividly imagining your brutal demise for wasting my time on your pointless crap. Anyone who's ever held a service position will be familiar with what I mean. Thankfully, my direct contact with the public is limited, as I've found my niche hiding in an office doing admin that would make the average person so bored they'd rather fish their own brains out through their eye-sockets with a handy pen than come in to work the next day, but it suits me perfectly.

The point is, I've recently become inspired to make the world a better place for my fellow humans (for reasons that elude me for now...), even if most of the time I find them so annoying I'd rather stab them with toothpicks than do something nice.

I confess, the title of this blog is probably misleading. It's very unlikely that I'll actually manage to do one good deed every day, because if I'm honest, there are days when all I have the capacity for is lying on the couch eating Tim Tams and chips and watching the entire 11 season run of  Bones on Netflix. I like to think of that as a good deed done for myself. It probably isn't, but I plan on clinging to my delusions anyway.

I'm not going to go crazily out of my way to do good deeds either. I'm just going to use the opportunities I am presented with and see what happens. Kind of like a really stupid mood experiment.

Today, when I was at work, I was called up by a lady who lost her phone. Normally when people do this, I fob them off onto one of my colleagues, and get on with reconciling the accounts or some other totally dull yet interesting to me thing, but today I thought, no no, I have the phone so I can probably arrange to get it back to her. Long story short, she is sending her friend to collect it from town as I'm passing near her place of work on the way home.

So, that's my good deed for the day: reuniting a lady with the appendage our smartphones have come to represent for all of us.