“Life is a pot of beans,” Iveren said, and everyone in the staff bus laughed. They had been talking about their various challenges as workers, and her statement seemed to summarise it all for them. They were on their way home at the end of a long shift. The journey had got to that slow crawl where after every five minutes, someone would alight. It was a cold night, the streets were quiet, and only a few houses had lights on. Iveren glanced at her watch. It was a few minutes to midnight. She thought of how peaceful it would be to curl up beside her children and rest her aching muscles. They were not so far from her bus stop. She let out a small sigh, navigating her thoughts back to the bus discussion.
“I know that saying is meant to mean that life is full of ups and downs. But I love beans and hate rice! So, why don’t you just say life is a pot of rice?” James, the driver, shouted from his seat.