…feel that something is not quite right.
I don’t have time for much here, now. My assignment is still not finished and I have a meeting at 11 (actual work). But, as I am a bit troubled, I thought I should share the following:
1) Funny how, on the fourth consecutive day of glorious quiet in the Killarney streets, I am beginning to feel as if I am in the opening scenes of Legend. The loeries are not even making running attempts at the single cherry tomato struggling to turn yellow. (These are very special cherry tomatoes, which is why I despair a little over their constant demise as toddlers, so to speak.) It is beginning to be a bit creepy.
The fact that I have been hunched over my desk for most of these days, with only one break to see the Bulls beat (euphemism) the Waratahs and another to go and see my father at my sister’s house in Boksburg might have something to do with it. If I had time to do weekend stuff: go to movies, play a bit of pool, drink until it’s at least too dangerous to drive and wake up with a gently throbbing headache, the quiet mornings of Easter may have more resembled a blessing… on day FOUR. Now I really miss the traffic and the hooting because here, in the final stretch, I am beginning to feel a bit lonely.
2) The troubled times described above are made even more melancholy by the fact that I lobbed a sizable chunk off the thumb on my left hand with a 20cm chef’s knife on Friday. Before that, for reasons I cannot fathom, I have been plagued by the thought that the last time I ACTUALLY cut myself during high-speed herb chopping was more than two years ago when I was doing my industry prac in the kitchen at the Michelangelo hotel. “Look” I would think… maybe I am SO GOOD now, that I just don’t cut myself anymore! Of course, darling.
It bled a LOT… like through FOUR plasters. I had a look this morning and it is very alarming. I wonder if I will be scarred for life. More scarred. Fortunately the only thing my left hand thumb has to do while I am writing (assignment, blog) is to hit the space bar, and ever since I am down to two plasters I can do this without accidentally also typing “b”.
Thing are getting better. But still. NEVER lose respect for the knife.
And now, back to the tabloids.