living freestyle – skirting around social norms

I wonder if it is very telling that I have no problem answering the door to the postman in my dressing gown. I wonder if I should be ashamed of still being in my PJ’s at 11:30 AM and making the poor guy traipse up the stairs to get my scribbled signature.

something very weird happened this week. On two separate occasions I chose of my own free will, to use the central cubicle in the works toilets. You know how I normally feel about this kind of behavior (the central cubicle being by far inferior and plagued with many potential pitfalls). On at least one occasion it was because someone had decided to kindly leave the bog brush in the bowl of the premium cubicle (right-hand side) ….which makes you wonder what it was hiding…and so i probably panicked, but why didn’t I go to the left hand side one to get as far away as possible from the offending brush catastrophe? This thought will probably haunt me all holiday.

I blame it on that trip to the pub. That’s right folks. I actually got my antisocial ass down to the pub for a drink with colleagues and was, to all intents and purposes, sociable. I sat next to someone i don’t know all that well and always assumed he plucked his eyebrow to look ‘cool’ but discovered actually it was the result of an argument with a climbing frame as a 3-year old! This and the fact that I got to watch him sweat out half of his body weight as he ate some pizza covered in naga chilli sauce mean that I like the guy much more despite the fact that he and his girlfriend got into a heated debate across the table from one another! Not only did I fail to come out with something unacceptably weird and offensive, to strangers / significant others, but I also didn’t sit in silence, was neither sober nor drunk – and by these signs I declare the evening a resounding success. Huzzah. Take THAT social anxiety!

Other adventures this week have involved locking myself in the bathroom by deft use of a bedsheet and manufacturing a bucket full of yeast and bleach and leaving it for someone else to clear up. I’m not even joking. The darned bedsheet was over the bathroom door, so it was stuck in the lock and I couldn’t open the door. SO was listening to his ipod so I was stuck knocking on the door getting increasingly claustrophobic, and forgetting which way I was even meant to be turning the lock to open it. At least I amused SO when he eventually found me! I owe someone some choccies for sorting out that yeasty bleachy soup because, quite frankly, my boss would have killed me if I left it to dry out for 2 weeks…

I had a dream that I was singing k’s choice songs. I have a sneaking suspicion that I might have ACTUALLY been singing. well at least the neighbours might think i got up at decent hour! ha! Now that reminds me, I need to do those neighbour xmas cards – but it so awkward , I’m still not sure what people’s names are and I’m pretty sure I sent a card to the Ahmed family (next door said that was their name) when their name  may not be Ahmed and I look like big fat racist. If only I could file the cards from previous years like other people do, so I know who to write them to…not to mention that I sent a bolus of cards the other day and am not unsure who I actually sent them to…

receiving a card from me for any occasion is a bit of a lottery – the conditions have to be correct for my brain to remember at the important times – like when in a card shop, when I have a pen, when I pack my bag AND when I have a posting opportunity. I think that some superhuman people do this with no problem. Perhaps they have some magical device to prod their brain into remembering. I’d need a damned electric shock every time I procrastinate until I actually get the job done.

Like now.

I need to collect xmas giftage from the city but here I am bloggin away about horse shit and watching the sky start to get dusky.

“All of this combined with me
Is very wicked chemistry”


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