Things which have Befuddled my Mind Since being struck by Gastro Yesterday:

I was Wondering

Public Photocopier Protocol. How long is a polite amount of time to photocopy? Is it like a public box phone call? I think it is. I might be wrong.

I was at the library photocopying some notes – I would estimate approximately four or five minutes of copying time. I had one of those copier cards in the machine and figured I’ll use up the $8.60 on it.

I was about half way through when a woman approached the photocopier and waited for about a minute as I was blissfully copying away. I gave her ‘the smile’ – you know - the one we all used on payphones not that long ago. She glared at me, stayed for another thirty seconds and left huffing and puffing (in search of a house of straw, I think).

See now, if I hadn’t had begun photocopying, and the woman approached, I’d have taken on the ‘Supermarket Queue Protocol’ whereby I would have said ‘I have a shopping trolley full as opposed to your pickled onions and Mylanta – go before me please – no, no trouble at all’.

The consolation was that my copier card held exactly the right amount for the job. How flukey. I was so pleased (when you have no life things such as this make you happy) I wanted to tell someone but the woman had gone. And really who would care anyway. Do you care? Of course you don’t.

Something Else

Why do I lose things I carefully put away, positive at the time that I don’t need to write myself a note, because this is the spot. Or writing myself a note that on return is so cryptic I can’t remember what the hell it was about.
After years of losing the ‘thing’ in the ‘safe spot’ and decades of trying to work out alligator in pink stilettos walks calmly at noon or steak paprika al tinkerbell Wednesday, you would think I might have learned something.

I can forgive myself of the midnight notes - if I wake in the middle of the night with a revelation of any description, it’s going to be a surreal piece of something, I don’t know what when I see it in the morning. It’s that one night stand kind of judgement. You wake up in the morning and it’s a whole new reality baby.

Making the same stupid mistake over and over and admitting it publicly. Does that make me a habitual idiot with no life?

And Another Thing

Husky Nutmeg has been online for a year now. If I wasn't feeling so seedy I'd drink to that. Thanks for visiting – thanks for the friendships made along the way.

Le Tigre arrived on Friday.

It’s parents (my son and his fiancé) have moved house and so I have a little furry lodger for a little while.

Since the arrival of Le Tigre, I notice the 'web' has listed a travel warning for Charlotte’s Rainforest Retreat noting it as a ‘Destination for which…[they] advise you to reconsider your need to travel’.

And rightly so, because this cat is just ferocious. You can’t tell? Oh please look at those evil claws. The spine chilling stare… T.S. Elliot would have written reams…

Like a Virgo

Thanks Mel for this'n. All sorts of fun things on this site.

Apparently, I should be a Virgo - pretty close, I guess. If my mother had have listened to her doctor I would have been.

You Should Be A Virgo

What's good about you: you have a quiet determination and aren't swayed by emotions What's bad about you: you are an insane perfectionist and easily find faults in others In love: you are obsessed with making your partner happy In friendship, you're: helpful and giving - eager to be a true friend Your ideal job: poet, flight attendant, or natural healer Your sense of fashion: casual, upscale, revealing, conservative - you look good in all of it You like to pig out on: a well prepared five course meal

What Sign Should You Be?

Pinata

I’m not angry anymore. I’m a bit sad but there’s no point wallowing in it – so I figure it’s much better to laugh at life at least half as much as life laughs at me (yeah, ‘with’, sure…)

Welcome Autumn. I think I have a cold.

And I’ve been seeing the world from the strangest angles lately.

Firstly, Mip relays all sorts of information about her day. One of the boys in the class was apparently ‘Space Invading’. While my mind was reeling through the possible definitions maybe or
perhaps
Mip was talking about something else entirely

The other day, I was walking to our main strip. Up ahead, I noticed one of the local elderly women, leaning up against a telephone pole. She’d walk a little then hang on to a fence for a bit, then lean against the next pole. It had been a hot day. When I got to her, I asked if she was okay. She said, quite matter-of-factly ‘I’m fine’ and continued past me. It was then I realised she was chatting to the poles and posts.

One of my neighbours said to me last week, ‘You do all that walking but you don’t lose any weight do you?’ I laughed politely, even more when she said, ‘well, you do are a bit chunky!’ I took a second to compose myself and said, ‘It’s all muscle Milly!’ Now the stupid thing is, I know I’m not overweight (mind, I’m no bean pole – otherwise the post chatterer would have had more time for me) so why am I now pretending to laugh when something inside is telling me I’m graceless? And what's the cost of overthinking? I think I'll just eat sweets and become a living pinata.