… you wake up to the alarm at 5:30am and forget what it means and what you’re supposed to do about it.
… the phone rings on your bedside table and you answer your remote control and can’t figure out why it won’t stop ringing. (I watched my ex do this.)
… you don’t realize until you go to put the tea cozy on the milk that you put the teapot full of steaming hot steeping tea in the fridge.
The last I did years ago, the first was just this morning. What notable things have you done or seen when exhaustion sabotaged your poor, defenseless brain cells?
I have a love/hate relationship with Christmas. The decorations are great, the coming together of family, the big dinner (which I have to cook, but I don’t even mind that), the joy and the caring community – *needle screeches across record* – wait, what was that? Caring community? HA!
I live in what I expect is the politest little city in the world – eleven months a year. But on that twelfth month, you’d better watch out!
If I lived in Whoville and the people from here could be called Whovillians for most of the year, come December they can only be considered Whovillains. The claws come out in the shops and they’re in such a hurry, they’ll run you down with their cars as soon as look at you. Gone is the interminable wait at a four way stop for everyone to say, “No, you go first.” Now it’s every man, woman and child for themselves.
It seems Christmas brings out the worst in people when they’re out in public – it makes you wonder if those same people are as thoughtless at home as well, or if they’re just taking out their frustrations on people they don’t care about. Either way, it’s the most horrible time of the year to have to go out shopping!
‘Tis the season to be surly, fa la la la la, la la la la. Sing with me!
Deck your friend and plow your neighbour, fa la la la la, la la la la
There are the old standbys, like not walking under a ladder (which is really common sense if you think about it), or the black cat crossing your path being bad luck. For good luck we have the found penny, though it seems to me there are fewer good luck superstitions than bad ones.
If you think of any more, leave them in the comments.
Anyway. The real reason for this post is to talk about the superstitions that run in families. Many of us have them I think.
Mine include:
if your hand itches: rub it on wood and it’s sure to be good, rub it on your ass and it’s sure to pass. This refers to good luck. Hey, there’s one!
lilies signify death. Don’t give them.
never seat 13 at the table – I’ve never known quite what to do if I actually have 12 guests. Then again, I’ve never had a table big enough. 😛
if you drop a knife, don’t pick it up yourself or you’ll have a bad surprise. When someone else picks it up for you, don’t say thank you, or they’ll have a bad surprise. So if you come to my house and there’s a knife on the floor, you’ll know why. And don’t expect any appreciation if you pick it up. 😉
There should be a word specifically for the feeling you get when you say something you shouldn’t have.
It happens to everyone, I’m sure. It’s the verbal vomit that comes out of your mouth in what we delicately label a faux pas.
It’s the facebook post that you realize was something that should have been kept a secret, or the mass email you thought you’d sent to only your best friend and closest confidant, just to discover your kids’ teacher is now aware that you have a yeast infection.
For things like this, the word “regret” doesn’t quite cut it. It’s that disconnect that separates good intention from devastating action.
Even the witty comment you think of half an hour after the fact, which is far less embarrassing but easily as annoying.
Communication impediment is too bulky. Linguistically challenged comes to mind… How about “linge”?
We could say, “Excuse me, I linged,” when we ask an acquaintance how her husband is, only to find out she just went through an ugly divorce. Or, “Damnit, I could have said ‘Duck!’ when the ball came flying through the air behind that guy, rather than ‘Watch out!’ making him turn and get it in the face instead. What a linge!”
Yeah, “linge.” It’s gonna be big.
Blog post of December 5th, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
So I was walking across the main road that’s on my paper route when I passed over this for the first time:
There I was, standing in the middle of the road, wondering why they would print the word “Danger” on a manhole cover. It’s in the middle of the road! Cars drive over it all the time! So I took this picture.
Luckily, I got out of the way before a car came.
Blog post of December 2nd, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
Is it a good sign that I want to blow up everyone in my NaNoWriMo novel? I’m thinking a nice gas explosion would come in handy right about now. Unfortunately that would mean killing off the narrator. I doubt that would go over well in most literary circles.
I think the most creative way I’ve written for anyone to die has to be my story of the unluckiest man alive:
Warning: The following my cause you to spit coffee out of your nose. Please read with caution.
Do you ever have so many things go wrong at once that you wonder if you’re on a sitcom and nobody told you? I had one of those moments at 6:30 this morning – far too early to start wondering who started the cameras rolling.
So there I was, standing at the counter in my kitchen, painstakingly crushing my son’s chewable vitamin with the blunt end of a knife as I do every morning. He won’t chew it – I have to stir it into his yogurt.
Anyway, there I was with this fine fine powder on the counter when my cellphone alarm went off in my pocket. I reached for the phone and pulled the crushed pill off the counter – all over the floor.
So I go to the broom closet, take out the broom and drop the dustpan. Bend down to pick up the dustpan, the mop falls and hits me on the head. Stuff the mop back in the broom closet, go back to the kitchen. Sweep up the mess, almost knock an opened bottle of wine on the floor with the broom handle.
Yes, there was a stopper in the bottle; no, I don’t drink wine at 6:30am, though I’m not sure why not.
All this happened in the space of about ninety seconds. One of those mornings when I just wanted to go back to bed and start again, you know?
In all honesty, I have to say I don’t believe Candy Crush Saga is a procrastination tool. It’s a way for me to escape my story for a few minutes and do something mindless that allows my imagination to wander.
When I’m not hungry but I get up to get myself something to eat anyway, that’s procrastination. Candy Crush Saga keeps me in my chair.
When I check my WordPress stats or my email, that’s procrastination. Candy Crush Saga takes far less time than that, especially if I have comments on my blog.
When I post a new blog to ask other people what they do to procrastinate, that’s procrastination.
So, how do you procrastinate?
Oh look, I have a new life on Candy Crush Saga! Gotta go.
Has anyone else noticed that their view count has gone down? I’m blaming it on the new pop-up window in the reader that allows people to read a post without going to the site.
While this new feature is sometimes handy, it discourages other WordPress users from clicking on the actual post. When they don’t look at the post, they don’t see our site, and when they don’t go to our site, they don’t see what else is on our site.
Just think about it this way: One of the people you follow may have found the cure for the clap yesterday, but if you only read about how his or her cat looked cute rifling through the cantankerous neighbours trash bin today, you’ll never know! That’s valuable information there you’ve missed out on!
So tell me, is it just me? Or has your view count gone down too?
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