Disastrous

There is small scale and big scale. When I look at my small scale disasters it seems precious and hyperbolic to name them as such. Burnt toast does not compare to the levelling of Aleppo, the world refugee crisis and famine in the Sudan. Why do we call our minor inconveniences “disastrous?” Is it because we find security in facing something that we can handle, a matter that will eventually pass, then we can return to our half-awake slumber?  That which is truly disastrous swamps and panics us, evoking the primitive fight or flight response that sophistication would rather ignore, explain away or, worse, victimise the sufferers. Look to the apocalypse within!
(This is in response to the WordPress daily prompt – I’m not really in meltdown!!!)