Here is a list summarising the first week back in life and desk. Seems I can only think in lists and dot points this week. Strange. Hmmph. Think I need one of those website counters - the ones that count down the days til some important event – in my case, the end of my ‘gap’ year back behind the desk.
1. Freaking acronyms. They should all be hogtied, painted with honey and stuffed in a small cage with a hungry brown bear. Except TOIL and ATL, which are quite dandy acronyms which I hope to become better aquainted with. So far I’ve acquainted myself with lots of zzzzzzzzzzs and gotten friendly with a few G&Ts. I would also like to retain the many-purposed WTF in my arsenal. It’s come in handy several times this week.
2. WTF is with the sudden profusion of white – yes, WHITE – hairs????? Mysteriously this little jab to the jugular coincided with my return to a lifestyle I deem to be in contempt of life. Maybe it's not the profusion but my noticing that is sudden. Perhaps my renewed compulsion to preen after a lull has afforded me a fast-forward from ‘before’ to ‘after’, otherwise denied by continual attendance to mirrors. Either way, WTF??
3. Sports shoes that pretend they’re office shoes: it is my week’s mission to find some. After three blisters on day one in my formerly comfortable flats, I am starting a homy-peds facebook fan club.
4. Quietly freaking out after re-reading points two and three in succession. Moving quickly to convince myself it is not a sign I’m upon old lady days, merely an indication of my slide even further to the left… and, well… I can’t think of any positive reinterpretation whatsoever for WHITE HAIR.
5. Ah Brisvegas. You have Campos coffee. You have Avid Reader and the awesome West End markets. You have cute Queenslander houses (albeit now totally unaffordable) and mango trees and sunshine. You even have a smattering of decent cultural institutions and events. But you are also painfully thin on the ground with the good stuff. Why do I always forget how small and unsophisticated you are? I am bemoaning the demise of your cheap-ass Dendy, which is clearly a ploy to get us to drive to the upmarket one in a posh suburb in a bling retail development on the river and pay more. Pfff.
6. Had also forgotten how small Bligh’s Army is. And how postively miniscule is Bligh’s Army of Spin. I like the sound of that, we could almost be a cricket team. Except I don't like cricket. Almost made it through one week without an urgent request for speech notes from the Office of the Lesser Grand Poo-bah. Am taking rehydration salts to work tomorrow after spending a week dying of thirst in the stupid airconditioning. WHINGE.
7. Someone asked if I’d planted the herbs and black russian tomato seedlings I brought with me from Vic. Let's see... arrived Friday PM, spent weekend getting self into new lodgings/retreiving work things from storage, started work Monday... When would I have done that? I’d forgotten how close to impossible it is for a desk hound to have time for much else other than work during the week. Sob.
8. A couple of points in opposition to my general brooding cynicism: I am secretly amazed by the little ripples we unknowingly make. I am also running away with Leunig this week.
9. Back to the brooding. I sense that with my return to desk-bindings, the part of my brain disposed to ideas and deep thinking is involuntarily shutting down. It – which thrives on idle time – is being usurped by the (still sluggish) part that has been called into action to juggle multiple compact chunks of information. Like lists and bullet points. I want to scream that these little information snacks are useless to me, they are merely functional, inconsequential snippets of trivia, unrelated and meaningless to my place in the world. But no one is listening. So I am running away with Leunig, he understands.
10. A concentration of sympathy and wellness vibes to all the poorly kitties and all their mums and dads. I fear it will be my turn soon and the little blighter’s in a different state.
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8 comments:
Thank you for your kitty vibes. Funeral tomorrow in Loch back paddock with some inspired words and then some badly needed drinks. I had forgotten all those freakish acronyms like TOIL that once also plagued my life. The thoughtful part of your brain shutting down? I am SO familiar with that. It's to stop you from combusting with all the things you want to do, but now have no time for.
All the best for your farewell to Mow. I am sure he will enjoy his final place in the paddock. And I will try to pace myself on the inevitable road to combustion.
Hmmm, so what exactly is wrong with white hair ?????
There is absolutely nothing wrong with white hair, generally speaking. But finding those first little rogue follicles giving up the pigment is like advancing a generation overnight. And besides, everyone knows white hair on blokes is crumpety, and on women it's... bugger, I can't go there, my mum will read this. ;)
Just letting you know - your mum IS reading this! What on earth were you going to say?? Now I'm dying of curiousity. Sorry to drop the bad news so crudely but by your age, I was WELL on the way to a startling shock of white hair!
I'll leave it to your imagination. Clue: somewhere in the realm of un-crumpety. Maybe it's the hours you keep (3am?) that made your good guys give up the pigment early?
Oh dear, Mum and daughter discussing white hair.. sounds strangely familiar. Just wait Sam for THAT moment when things go white in places they shouldn't. Started already. Not happy JAN (hope you caught that pun)
Sam, sorry to hear you've had mutiple sad kitty news. Lucky that beautiful snow ball (that has already gained momentum and is clearly at the bottom of the hill) is safe in the arms of your beloved parents. He is a darling. Must visit soon.
LAtD by the way I imagine will only be for a snippet of your life, so for now it appears that you will have to go along for the ride, save for your block, build and live a merry life, living off the grazing sheep and green veggie patch. It will come, hang in there.
Gah! Too much information JAN!!
Glad to hear HRH has regained charge of her royal subjects.
Once a snowball, now a crusty-eared, dreadlocked, arthritic, diabetic, grumpy furball... who asked for second pats before I left - aawww!!
Yeah, I hope it is only a snippet. I just fear that snippets have a habit of becoming aeons.
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