You know you’ve got the funk when you enjoy the morbidity of performing when you don’t really want to. I mean, you live in that tension between wanting to do and not wanting to do, and in desperation, you stuff your hands down your proverbial pockets to keep them out of mischief.
So her boy blunder’s fallen on bad days, but what the hell do I care? After spending a grand total of 30 minutes, unannounced and suddenly pressed into seeing him, I discover to my utter delight what an asshole he is. Which, of course, brings me to my current problem: what the hell do I do about it?
That’s it, pure self-interest. It doesn’t really matter if he’s squirming in pain, a total stranger; the point is, he’s got what I desperately want.
Blargh. Stitches.
Another adventure today with the family unit. “Immensely fun” would not describe it adequately, but it was a trip, no doubt. That and the incessant snoring, hacking and coughing.
It relates, in a weird way, to how I learned to stiff the client, but that’s not the point. The point is, I had an epiphany: I’ll die with the way things are carrying on now, or I’ll go insane and apply parang to heads. Heh.. that’s a thought.
It must’ve been a subtle sort of message the family unit was sending me today; not only did they toss the junk out the door, they then proceeded to mess up my completely orderly mess at home (the way I like it). It’s almost kafkan, this diabolical urge to “spring clean”, dammit. Now not only am I empowered to do nothing, I caught myself looking for my underwear in the wrong places, and get this, not minding! Weird? You bet!
Not much weirder than the arrangements, the.. patterns in the office. It’s like the world has turned into a delightful little maze with many lab rats scuttling about looking for cheese in traps.
So she’s coming back tomorrow. Or is she? Will she be nursing boy blunder, I wonder?
bah, fickle women!
