I am the one man consumer of cartons of tissue. If I put the effort in I could end up in the record books as the one that used up most cartons in an hour. I am afflicted with the runny nose and the sneezes today, and therefore my internet life tends to be interrupted by finding more tissue paper to clean the monitors…
That bit of TMI was brought to you from a country where the frigging June temperature is in the tens, Celsius, and where the skies seem intent to wash us away. I shall write an ode to the leaden skies, and the streams in the gutters, and the English perseverance against nature on this blessed isle.
Okay, that’s more Tennyson than me. My poetry is that of sneezes and snot at the moment. You have been fore-warned. If art can consist of human shit on a white floor, then it can consist of snot running down a monitor. In lumps.
Mark has finally gotten around to do the laundry. Laundry consists of us scrabbling together bags of clothing, packing it into the car, and going over to Aunties to use her washing machine. There were two big sacks today, and he spent about four hours running the machine over there.
When I slouched over on the bike to see what was taking so long, I interrupted Auntie stuffing the machine with our clothes, and giving me a dark look, and muttering something about proper washing machine protocol.
Why am I getting told off, to begin with? My husband to be is sitting in the kitchen drinking soft drinks while my relatives slave at the washing holes. The picture would have been complete if she was bent over a washing board with icy fingers clapping cloth with sticks.
The problem is that the only kind of punishment I can think of ends up being punishment for me as well, and I’m really not into self-flagellation. The whole denial thing just means denying myself. Besides, I have the sneezes, remember.
Once at home he did cook me a nice dinner, but I couldn’t taste it. I mean, I ate it, and can intellectually say it was nice. But my taste-buds just aren’t there at the moment.
He also forbade me to cook tomorrow, when he’s off to work on a Sunday, because I’m going to taint the foods with my bugs. Not that this will save him because food is not the only source of my bugs. Mouahaha.
What I’ll have to do is to replace my temporary texture with something remotely skin-like, and give the poor fellow some ears, hair and eyes. It’s a learning project, and I think I’m progressing well. I am well pleased with myself. Maybe I’ll admit to being a little smug too about it.
But I think I’ll continue with the head tomorrow. This evening I’m going to curl up, gather the tissue cartons nearby, and read something.
I still have such a long list of books to read. It is time to start digging into that list.