A Glimpse.

I don't really have anything to write about, so I thought I would give you a glimpse into what runs through my mind with a collection of totally random, hopefully entertaining, thoughts about my daily life.

***
Work. Or, How Retail Kills the Soul.

Customer (snittily): Do you work here?
Me (in my mind): Oh, hello to you too. No, I'm not busy. How are you this fine, sunny day? I see you're in a shopping mall. That must make you sad. That makes me sad too. Why, no, I don't work here. I just wear this hideous shirt that hasn't been washed in 3 days because I'm a bum. It just happens to say "TEAM" all over it. I'm a very team-oriented person. Also, I like to wear a name tag because sometimes I forget and call myself Fancy Pants McGee and end up in Kings Cross with no pants at all. That's because I'm too fancy for pants. Also, I really, really enjoy folding fleeces, so I just come into this shop and fold fleeces in perfect little squares. I like it when people like you ask me if I work here because people like you are always so pleasant and always have such interesting things to say.
Me (in real life): Yes, how can I help?

***
H is for Hygiene at Home.

Man on train clipping toenails: CLICK. CL-CL-CLICK. Shuffle. Shuffle. CLICK. CLICK CLICK.
Me, concurrently: Grimace. Angry stare. Gri-grimace. Oh thank goodness. UGH THAT'S SO GROSS! MAKE IT STOP! Grimace.

***
Life Unstoppable. Or, Reflection on Mortality.

Strawberry plant in the morning after a hot day and several days of neglect: Withered and sad, even looking a little bit dead.
Me: Crap! I shall return with a watering can! But first I will eat this tasty berry...
(watering and general puttering in the balcony garden)
Strawberry plant in the evening: Looking like nothing had ever happened.

I wish people could do that too. I'm fairly certain that if I didn't eat or drink for 3 days, I would die. And I would most definitely not be making tasty berries for my neglectful benefactor to eat.

***
Animal Behaviour.

Cat at 06:59: meeeow? meeeeew? meeeeow?
Me: zzzzzzz--
Cat at 07:00: MEOW! MEOOOOW! MEEOW! MEOW!
Me: (stumble out of bed) Meow?
Cat: Meow?
Me: Meow!
Cat: Meow!
Me: (giggling)
Tom: Is that you or the cat??

***
Fits and Starts- Better Make That Shits and Startles.

Man at the gym: 42 8's! Come on! YEAH! YEAH!
Me: (on my last set of burpees for the day and feeling rather burped)
Man at the gym: YEAH! (disturbing grunt) 37 19's! YEAH! PUSH YA BASTARD YEAH!
Me: Aaaaaaaaand it's stretching time. Then it's get the hell out of here before someone poops his pants time.

***

Project: Green 19.

I strap up my shoes, check out the holds, and say, "climbing". No hand holds yet, so I lean into the wall, get my feet up, and slowly stand up. Balance and breathe. Next up, some crappy little slopey bit of pinching awfulness, but it's better than nothing.  Next up, the angular undercling thing, which is surprisingly awesome. Secure, even. On it. Adjust my feet. Reach up, up, up to the right, and there it is, my crimpy little side-pull. Got it. Okay. My fingers hurt a little, adjust a little, should have trimmed my fingernails. Next up: the boob. The most awful piece of slopey craptastical hold, greasy from the skin of so many frustrated climbers and slick with the sweat of hundreds. Awful. Atrocious. And just a little bit too far away. Never mind. I match feet again, decide that I was better off before, and match back. Deep breathing. Determination glowing in my eyes. I'm gonna slap that boob, and I'm gonna stick to it. One, two, three, LAUNCH. SLAP. Slipping. Sliding. I fall. I stand up again. I adjust my feet. I get my tummy back in line. I try again. I slap the boob and I stick it. Excellent. Now what? I look around, never having made it this far, and without a clue what to do next. I feel my hand slipping off the boob. I shift it urgently. I try to keep my foot on the sloper it found. I can't. I fall. I will get you, you big green boob of a hold. One day you will taste the rubber of my Scarpas.