Pitch dark and pissing it down here now. Sky TV, seen while at the gym, showed flooded campsites in gale-stricken Norfolk, which is where elder son, wife and daughters age 2 and 4 are headed today, for a week - I wonder whether or not they went?
I DID get as far as clearing the spare bed to pile things on, and selected four books, as well as notebooks ... that's a start, at least.
And in the meantime I am distracted by the delicious odour of curry, as my DBS cooks tea downstairs
Monday, August 23
HoW to: The Art of Procrastination
Ok, where the fuck is my passport. I know I saw it to take a picture of it only yesterday, or no, it was Saturday already. And I need it to travel for work tomorrow... grr... the thing has grown legs and walked! Taken one look at the drear grey vertical wet stripes that is all the weather has to offer today, a liquid chain-mail curtain, and it's decided to burrow like the cat into a cushioned and cosy corner somewhere...
Perhaps it too has an aversion to packing. I have to be at work for a lift to the airport at 5am, which is a little early even for me. It means I can't pack in the morning. So I am procrastinating. Of course I had to update the TomTom with the latest maps etc. Because I will be on driving duty as we are travelling to a land where they drive 'an der anderen Seite'; or, what I still call home.
I probably didn't have to download the Dalek voice to give me driving instructions, but I just pissed myself laughing when it said "Exterminate, exterminate, exterminate... human" and it makes me smile each time I imagine the reaction of my colleague/travelling companion.
I didn't have to come in and sit straight down to log on at the computer - I mean it had been twenty whole minutes since I logged off at work. I did remember to get the washing out of the machine and turn on the huge towel rail/radiator in my bathroom & drape my wet clothes over it in an effort to dry at least one pair of jeans for the trip.
And I had to check that e-mail again, the one where I was cyber-dumped. Weird. Maybe with cyber naughties out of the way we can be cyber friends...? Too weird if virtual relationships start following the same dumb pattern as my real ones.
Normally if the cat is hiding somewhere, opening a nice meat-stinky packet of cat food will get him to come running. I wonder what works on passports? I'll have my tea and maybe play a facebook game or two while I think about that one.
Perhaps it too has an aversion to packing. I have to be at work for a lift to the airport at 5am, which is a little early even for me. It means I can't pack in the morning. So I am procrastinating. Of course I had to update the TomTom with the latest maps etc. Because I will be on driving duty as we are travelling to a land where they drive 'an der anderen Seite'; or, what I still call home.
I probably didn't have to download the Dalek voice to give me driving instructions, but I just pissed myself laughing when it said "Exterminate, exterminate, exterminate... human" and it makes me smile each time I imagine the reaction of my colleague/travelling companion.
I didn't have to come in and sit straight down to log on at the computer - I mean it had been twenty whole minutes since I logged off at work. I did remember to get the washing out of the machine and turn on the huge towel rail/radiator in my bathroom & drape my wet clothes over it in an effort to dry at least one pair of jeans for the trip.
And I had to check that e-mail again, the one where I was cyber-dumped. Weird. Maybe with cyber naughties out of the way we can be cyber friends...? Too weird if virtual relationships start following the same dumb pattern as my real ones.
Normally if the cat is hiding somewhere, opening a nice meat-stinky packet of cat food will get him to come running. I wonder what works on passports? I'll have my tea and maybe play a facebook game or two while I think about that one.
Guest write: 'Eau d'Joe' with thanks to Joe Gensle
I’m breaking a man-rule by admitting that, sometimes, there are those occasions that I enjoy shopping for clothing for myself. Those occasions are so rare that it’s usually a $300USD day without buying any shoes, accessories, or what I’d call ‘fancy’ clothes. ‘Fancy’ means slacks that need tailoring to finish the cuffs, shirts made for neckties I own but no longer need, and suits or blazers which I love but for which I have no need.
I read the shopping blog, here, and had already made my strategic mission into the mazes of sale racks of men’s shops and department stores. The mission was simple, really. Find clothing that’s impervious to gallon-per-hour perspiration, rain, and splashed drinks. Too, there’s the unique-to-New Orleans Café du Monde syndrome, namely, a ‘house’ custom of blowing one’s powdered sugar from atop the beignet.
We fat people are a sweaty lot, anyway. But blow powdered sugar on me when I’m completely perspired, and in one of my new easy-breathing shirts, and I’m going to be imperiled. I become subject to attack by relentless waves of dive-bombing mosquitoes. I stick to nearly anything that’s dry against which I’ve merely brushed a limb or affected article of clothing. Hell, I might even be mistaken for some colossal dessert by a Southern Decadencer, and you know my size and infirm leg do not the aerodynamic sprinter, make.
So I bought some nice shirts. I already have a share-sized golf-style umbrella that’s somewhat compact. I’m okay in the walking shorts department. I have more T-shirts than fans at a country music festival. Shoes? Well, my black ‘combat’ tennis, i.e. black New Balance shoes will sport fresh stings.
The other clothing needs are adequately covered for the trip.
But I was really short of one indulgence. Whether traveling or not, I like men’s cologne, and am verrrry picky about the fragrances I wear. Lagerfeld was made for my body chemistry, I’ve worn it more than 20 years, and recently ran out. ‘Aw hell,’ I thought, I’ll call my friend, Luv.
Luv works at a local drugstore’s cosmetic counter. So I asked her, “Do you have any of the nicer men’s fragrances at disaster-closeout prices?” and she assured me she did.
Although it seemed a bit sweet, there was something about the fragrance as I sniffed the box. Since she didn’t have a tester, she opened the box and produced a small square of index card-like material, and was ready to shoot. “Wait, Luv-- I need to know what it smells like on my skin.” And it was sweet, but there was also some subtlety to it, and it was mindful of something else of which I couldn’t think at that moment.
I’m the proud owner of a 3.4 ounce bottle of Tommy Bahama cologne. I wore it to work the other day and caught a whiff of myself on the commute. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I smelt of a fucking tropical coconutsy pineappely drink. It was so spot-on, that when I got out of the car, I had the urge to look around to my massive bum to see if a paper umbrella had sprouted from my arse.
Please don’t blow your beignet sugar on me because I think this cologne is going to give me all the looks, comments and bugs I can handle. Or not handle, causing me to flee to my room and shower, clothing and all.
HoW soon - another song
The good news is that the countdown is short and it's NEXT WEEK - so HoW soon?, as Martha Wainwright sings, is now very soon ...
HoW Quotes: 03
HoW vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.
Henry David Thoreau
Henry David Thoreau
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