I have been in the wars a bit this week – power has been cut off (thank you, Sister Flatmate), burnt hand while cooking (before power cut off, obviously), came down with Mysterious Illness (blood tests today, whee), and lost all my hair in somewhat Britney-esque incident which has led everyone to think I am mental and studiously not comment. Am not actually mental. Am fuzzy, though! (On my head.)
I am not feeling festive yet. Christmas has not kicked in, despite the usual profusion of tinsel and carols. I want candy canes. I’m not sure if it’s the no-electricity, the working-through, the mystery illness, the no-hair, the staying in Wellington or a combination of all of these, but I AM NOT FESTIVE. I want turkey. Now. And maybe also a bagel. TURKEY ON A BAGEL.
So, in an attempt to launch myself piebald head-first into the Silly Season, here is a list of
1. No electricity means that a) I appreciate the little things in life, like showers and lightbulbs, so much more and b) when it gets, dark, I can light a candle and snuggle up in bed with my book, which is nice (albeit in a primitive sort of way), and c) if it’s good enough for the Amish, it’s good enough for me and d) it makes me feel better about going to work, because at work I can have a shower and e) it might serve as catalyst for SF to finally pay the power bill.
2. No hair means that a) I will save on shampoo and b) I look like Sinead O’Conner (well, not really, but I am pretending), and c) I have a huge packet of crisps, which is irrelevant but I thought I’d mention it, and d) I will not be getting any unwanted male attention (or any male attention at all, for that matter), and e) I will not have to worry about weather ruining my hair, because there is no hair to ruin! Well, hardly any. Also I can rub my own head for luck!
3. Mysterious Illness means that I can lounge about and not do anything and no-one will say “shift your lazy arse” because you aren’t allowed to say that to sick people. Wish SF wasn’t back at home, though, I was quite enjoying living by myself – she will attempt to make me Do Things, when actually I am being grouchy and ill and antisocial and don’t want to do anything with anybody. Think I might try to spend most of the festive season out of the house.
People keep walking past and trying very hard not to look at my hair.
Ok, I am feeling better now - considering sponging $$ off my dear Daddy (and by 'sponging' I mean 'borrowing') and going to his house for Christmas as he won't be doing anything and, probably, neither will I. (Cooking Christmas dinner is out as I have Mysterious Illness and am a little wary of giving it to all my friends until I know what it is, at which point they can all suffer with me.) Am also heartened by the thought of Midnight Mass, which I will be going to unless I fall asleep, and Ashton evening up my hair tonight, thus making me look slightly less like I've been attacked by a lawnmower and (hopefully) more, you know, intentionally short-haired.
Have just received an email from my boss about a process change, saying "I'm sure you're all across this." What? Metaphorically? Yeah, dude, I'm across it like hollandaise on eggs. I'm across it like Hannibal and the Alps. I'm across it like yo' mama on a hot dog. Huh.
Comment of the day, made by a colleague of mine on a phone call: "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound rascist just there..." Wish I'd heard whatever no doubt sparklingly inapproprite comment preceded that.
Wonder if he made the sale?