Friday 21 September 2007

Today I was stressing when I woke up this morning because I didn't get enough sleep and I had to get my car, dear Olive, to the motor mechanics, and I tend to get really stressed out when I have to be somewhere first thing in the morning (first thing being 10.30, for me ;)

And anyway, I got it all done, and even found by the end of the day when I caught the bus home that I was taking notice of everything around me and feeling ... well, kind of happy!

This is what happens when I get well. Not that I'm entirely well - the cough still lives, although reduced (I did, however, manage to pull another, albeit small, muscle in my side today where I thought no muscles live. This is the last one.)

Amused at:
  • The sturdy little boy on the train this morning with his mum. I couldn't stop staring at him. He was just delicious. He was asking his Mum "What's that, Mum? What's that, Mum?" about everything. But what was beautiful about him was the way he was stopping and pondering and prognosticating about everything. I could see the cogs whirling in his beautiful little three year old mind.
  • The sturdy little boy's mum who must have excess amounts of energy to deal with the ponderings of a three year old. (Note to self, if I have children: "I don't know" is an eminently reasonable answer to give a child.) He pointed to the man sitting diagonally across from me and asked "What's that, Mum". "Man", was the answer. To something within the train, "What's that, Mum?" "Train" came the somewhat lame answer - but can you blame her? The patience of parents is priceless.
Bemused at:
  • The amount of shit sales calls I get at my landline number. Seriously, I just registered with the Do Not Call list because I'm tired of taking out my bemusement on underpaid Calcutta call centre workers.
  • The latest call I just received which had an American pre-recorded voice informing me that I have just been preselected to win an all expenses paid trip to Florida. Fuck off.
  • The man on the bus who, even though he was within whispering distance of the bus driver, still reached out and pressed the request stop bell. Seriously. The driver probably doesn't bite, you know. And he breathes and loves and despairs just like you do. Really. Talk to him. It helps the world go round a bit nicer when we actually interface with each other just a tiny bit.
  • My car, Olive, who has a satanic-sized oil leak and who will be in the shop for repairs until at least Monday afternoon. Breathe deeply, Susie. You can do without a car. You can. Actually, I caught the bus home tonight and it took just as much time as it does to catch the train - plus it stops right outside work. Bonus.
Touched by:
  • The old man on the train. His face was an intricate web of wrinkles. He sighed at one point, and I thought, "Yes, darling, the world is cold, ain't it? I tire of it too and I'm not 80 (I did spend 6 years feeling like it, though, so I have much sympathy for you") He was twiddling his fingers in that way that betrayed the fact that he was going over deep ruts of worry in his mind. He twirled his wedding ring.
  • The rain that has fallen out of the sky this afternoon. I took Lester out yesterday to the river and I noted how much drier it is than even two weeks ago - and September is commonly one of the wetter months of the year in Melbourne. Not this year. My motor mechanic said that when he was at the Otway Ranges last weekend, it was dusty. It's September!! And the Otways don't usually get dusty. Scary. Please, Papa, more rain.

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