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My lovely man watched me doing my face the other day. Applying face powder actually. As one does.
What’s that for, he enquired.
This stuff, I said, is what makes me beautiful.
At this point, I waited expectantly, with love in my heart. Because, really isn’t it an opportunity for a compliment?
Insert anything, even if not sincere or true. Recognise the gap and act.
What does my lovely man say?
‘You better order some more’
Honestly.
I am a compulsive saver of information received. Electronically at least. If I have a hard copy of it, I’m likely to throw it in the bin. But! If you email me something I’m going to bloody file it see.
Terrabytes and terrabytes of Dropbox.
At one point this was completely out of hand. I convinced myself that one day someone was going to be looking for something and I would be able to raise my hand and say ‘I have that filed!’ Literally, I could save the world and be adored.
That New24 2011 article or the BancABC 2014 exchange rate would be dug up and the relief would be palpable.
So far, it’s only my old dad and my lovely man tapping into this extraordinary, somewhat compulsive behaviour of mine. And I am frazzled and out of time and NOT adored by all as expected,
So, screw you all, I’m deleting shit.
Have you been in your relationship forever, and also lived in the same house forever?
Sadly, my lovely man and I have not. None of the above. And currently we run two households, in two different countries.
This results in us pondering where things are. And often we will say ‘but I had one of those, where is it now……’ Anyone’s guess really.
In recent weeks, this debate turned to a vegetable rack. Fond memories of various vegetable racks owned (and clearly now missing), by both of us ensued.
Bottom line… We are without vegetable rack.
So, I asked at a seemingly well stocked supermarket if they sold vegetable racks.
Affirmative… They sent me to a section of the supermarket. I found a lot of vegetables, no vegetable rack.
Three times this happened. I asked three different assistants and was always sent to the same place. Vegetables (and fruit), no vegetable rack.
I was bemoaning my story of woe to the lady that does our hair.
What is alarming, she said, is that you fell for this three times and went back to the fruit and vegetable section. Three times.
Anyway, I’m looking for a new hair lady.
Personal grooming is a thing isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be quite liberating to let it all go? Certainly one way to trend on social media.
All kinds of unwanted hair, and no sign of us evolving to no longer produce it as a species.
It’s quite big business. Other people removing it for you I mean. Bless them, can that be considered a calling? I ponder if this is discussed at school career days. Or does it come up as an option when one does an aptitude test?
You are a natural for back, sack and crack maintenance.
But, it’s all quite time consuming isn’t it? So, sometimes neglected.
Recently I realised something had to be done. Home job time.
So, on the way into the shower, I grabbed my lovely man’s shaving foam.
When I was relaying the story, he immediately asked if I had also grabbed his razor.
Certainly the fight would start depending on whom, and where, a shaving rash developed.
Except it wasn’t his shaving foam. I liberally sprayed myself yonder, with Brut deodorant.
Not recommended.
An easy mistake considering the cans are next to each other, and a lovely lingering, somewhat manly, odour.
Aptitude fail really.
If you live and work in Mozambique or Zimbabwe, you will, undoubtedly, hate your internet service provider.
So, it was with great excitement we heard that good old Elon Musk was offering Starlink satellite connections. Speed unknown to us in these parts at a reasonable price.
I immediately investigated and my research showed that it was best to order directly through the app. I have ordered one in each country. Starlink, it seems, are still trying to find Zimbabwe, so they have taken my $9.99 deposit and will advise further.
We can only imagine that they are having to negotiate through Dubai just who will benefit from any transaction before it’s actually allowed.
But! The app advised me that they can deliver the kit to Mozambique, and I must pay NOW. So, I gave them all my credit card details.
You know, as you do, on any old playstore app.
The very next day a delightful lady from the bank fraud department phoned to verify it was me and that I was sure.
They phone of course, without any warning. (I like a message two days in advance requesting permission that anyone phone me, so that I can mentally prepare). And then they ask you to pass security checks when your brain is just not in the game.
I amazingly convinced her that it was me. She was very pleasant and patient.
And then she says…. do you want us to allow this payment you wish to make to Mexico.
Mexico? I am trying to pay Elon Musk for a satellite kit I explained, is he in Mexico? Has he bought Mexico?
Oh, she says, Mozambique. Not Mexico.
Who knows really.
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I had my tonsils out as a child.
I went to a doctor in my 40’s for something minor and told her this. Oh, she said, you have tonsils. Sometimes they grow back.
What the actual…
In recent weeks, I have had a sore throat. It’s my bloody reborn tonsils I thought. Was there a warranty on that op when I was six I pondered.
Not being bright enough to consult an actual medically trained professional, I turned to Google. Which informed me that gargling with diluted apple cider vinegar kills throat bacteria.
Anyway, I’m delighted to report my throat is no longer sore. Hopefully it dissolved my unwanted tonsils completely.
However, it also seems to have removed the enamel on my teeth. Sigh… Does enamel grow back?
Don’t try this at home.
We’ve been invited to go on a houseboat for a few days.
Lucky hey?
Not so lucky is my recent gas problem.
I may find myself being thrown to the crocs.
I blame the detox I attempted. Downing 500ml of neat tabasco can play havoc with the guts.
Not recommended.
My lovely man has, so far, made no comment. Bless him. Isn’t he a treasure? He is hard of hearing thank goodness. Hopefully he also has a severe cold.
He has mentioned a few times how pleasant the (sunny) spare room looks at this time of the year. In this fridge of a house.
I’m not sure if there is a connection or if I’m invited.
I wouldn’t invite me. Lethal.
I am starting to suspect that I’ve actually died and my brain is just taking a while to catch up.
Because, you know, there are emails to answer.
Is it just me, or do you also loathe packaging?
Apart from the obvious that it’s mostly all plastic, it’s largely impenetrable isn’t it? And often seems unnecessary and an overkill.
I’m a bit of a shopper. it’s my one talent really. Random spending. But, inevitably, anything new comes in packaging that you have to wrestle off. Take Take A Lot for instance. Those people, bless them, give extra thought to packaging because, presumably, the goods have to survive transportation. So, there is re-packaging in a lot of cases. Not that this always helps. Possibly because my order is then put on a donkey cart or something similar and driven over less than attractive roads to me.
A face wash I ordered recently arrived burst. (Yes, there is face wash here before you ask, we are not a nation of dirty faces). But, I was tempted in this case because it was a charcoal face wash, and I just can’t resist a charcoal anything really. Charcoal is so versatile don’t you find. Like bicarb and coconut oil. There must be 100 uses for these products. Must Google it. I take great comfort knowing that if I ever suspect I have been poisoned, I can just chug down my face wash and I am likely to survive the ordeal.
Back to the packaging. It’s that hard plastic shell that kills me the most. I really have to gird my loins when stuff arrives in that. I ponder on that movie Tom Hanks starred in where he was washed up on a deserted island and his only companion was the American football Wilson (or was it a rugby ball, is there a difference?). Anyway, what if Wilson had arrived in a hard plastic shell? And also washed up with him was a scissor in a hard plastic shell. The movie would not have done as well I’m sure. We would have all been gnashing our teeth in frustration.
Some years ago I met someone in the packaging industry. It was quite fascinating to hear her speak about it because it’s actually very complex and very competitive. Lots of math goes into packaging. She was absolutely fabulous. Hysterical really, very entertaining and great company.
But, that’s how psychopaths are aren’t they? Engaging and charming. Because really, this must be one of the criteria required to be in the industry, to be a complete sadist.
I’m sure she’s the exception.
I have been quite disciplined with my eating for some months, and dropped some weight.
But, in recent weeks, have failed somewhat.
So, to kick start myself back to good habits, I decided to do a detox programme I saw advertised.
The lady who promotes this and who kindly delivered my meals for the forseable future is indeed an advert for her product. Fabulously fit and toned. Arrived in skimpy shorts. Get inside I had to say to my lovely man.
Aren’t you cold I asked her, dressed like a polar bear myself. No, I’m just back from the gym she announced.
Of course. Also, I think she’s British. They don’t feel the cold do they?
You might get a slight headache as you are not allowed caffeine she announced.
Oh, I’m not worried, I told her, I’m not a big coffee or wine drinker. It’s quite nice, the fantasy in my head, I make the rules.
So, I diligently downed the first green smoothie thing and my lovely man observed my face and enquired if I was actually paying money to be this miserable.
One of the drinks seemed to be tomatoes and tabasco. I thought it might actually kill me.
How are you feeling my lovely man asked me in the morning. (After day one).
Well, I said, my weight is down, but I think I have a brain tumour and need you to take me to the hospital please.
Aaah, he said, you have a headache, should I bring you a coffee rather?
What I have learnt from this exercise :
I am not brave when in pain.
I would rather never eat again than face that tabasco smoothie.
I can, quite surprisingly, manage without wine, but am, it seems addicted to coffee.