Thursday, 2 April 2020

A TWO DAY ACCOUNT THAT TURNED INTO BISCUIT ANALOGIES




The very first nickname I ever had for my wife was Wriggly Sue. There have been many more over the years. Mousewoman, Fluffy, Shithead. I never call her by her actual name. Wriggly Sue has always stuck though. That is because she wriggles an unreasonable amount in her sleep.

Plagued with COVID and Tiger King related nightmares, the wriggling has intensified. This has made for many elbows, bony arses and "BAAAAABE, I can't SLEEEEEP"s plaguing my own snooze time. I can only imagine the Ligers in masks crawling through her brain, so I do feel empathy. Even though I have to get up before 8, do my MOM's INTO FITNESS work-out and get to 'work work'. Maybe I can start calling it work 'in', after my work 'out'. Thank you. Yes, I have been watching a lot of Mad Men.

All the TV stations and press briefings are writing stay at home everywhere. Are there people who are not staying at home? Who are these morons? Joggers have graduated to my least favourite human beings. I'm aware that their flagrant health means that they are above me. But, running up behind me and not even allowing me the option to give you a Wide Berth feels oppressive. I never thought my oppression from skinny people would include actual FEAR. But, here we are.

I'll be honest. I did not write a thing yesterday. It was Wednesday after all. And on that Wednesday, I had the get-go of a soggy biscuit. It's transplanted itself to today, too. I would productive-ise myself all over town, but every time I move, I crumble into a limp, delicious bit of gloop.

I did not have much of an opportunity to note down amusing things yesterday. There was a dense document. I was talking about it in my Tuesday ramble slot. Well, it's still dense. To the extent that I couldn't even identify what amusing was any more. Well, I threw my hands up in the air. Waved them around like I just didn't care. And I sent it to my colleagues for help. It's away with them now, those smart people. They'll fix it.

ON THE OTHER HAND, I did have a magical visit from a flame-haired angel friend. We distance hugged from a distance. Like that  Mary Black song. She brought me organic wine. For she is an angel. It was horrible not being able to go there and grab her and throw all my love at her. But it was also magic because i got to see her little face. She, is magic. And brought a pure glow to the day.

Sadly I also discovered something else unsettling, that I wouldn't recommend. Suggesting a Netflix Party for your colleagues to cheer them up. Turns out they'll try schedule it at unreasonable hours. NINE PEE EM!!! NINE! PEE! EM!! I understand, they have reproduced. I'm so lucky. I could  watch ANYTHING right now! ANYTHING! Nymphomaniac? THROW IT ON LADS! NO KIDS HERE. SO yes, I get it. Sadly, as event coordinator, I've found myself doing a lot of non-promotable tasks. Someone was briefing us on this on International Women's Day. It was but a whisper before the KORONAKREEP was born. It was on how people end up taking on non-promotable tasks. How those people generally have vagines. The slide within that presentation should have had a photo of me, with a thumbs up, asking if I could do anything to help?

DO YOU KNOW WHAT WAS THE BEST/WORST PART? I decided to suggest Bandersnatch for this staff "event". That's a movie where you get to choose how it will go. GREAT FUN! I said! INTERACTIVE! I said. EVERYONE WILL HAVE A GREAT TIME! I grunted. WE'LL ALL LAUGH AND ENJOY OURSELVES. I whispered. Netflix watch party gives EVERYONE CONTROL! Democracy in action! Our system of togetherness, working together, for the common goal of Charlie Brooker's brain. WHAT COULD BE BETTER.

Disaster, friends.

I don't know how many people logged in. Netflix party, though FAB, does not suit a group of colleagues who all want to make a decision at once. I lasted twenty minutes of the movie. That twenty minutes TOOK AN HOUR. Realised I was still kind of working at 10 pee em. On something I defo can't add to the CV. Decided against throwing my laptop out the window. Opted for spending some time with Wriggly Sue instead. The chocolate kimberly of human beings.

She was wriggling around downstairs being a cute little fluff. We talked nonsense. Laughed 'til we cried. Watched peaceful yet underwhelming 'Home of the Year' (THEY'VE RUN OUT OF HOUSES. BRING BACK CATHEDRAL MOVE-ABLE BOOKCASE WINNER OF SEASON 1). And we drifted off for another night of apocalyptic lion tiger virus wriggle attacks.

Ups and downs, friends. Ups. And Downs. Perhaps I'm a wriggly sue OF THE MIND. Yes, thank you. I did study philosophy during my Masters. LOOK where it's got me. In leisure wear. On a Thursday. In Crumlin. Not allowed to go beyond 2km. Worrying about ALMOST everything. 

Fear not! The Korona Kronciles will continue. Tomorrow, when I'm no longer a soggy biscuit, but a crisp, fresh, pink wafer. The sun came out as I typed that, and it beamed down on to my tiny little feet. (they are unreasonably small) We'll be ok. Sez the sun. There's a pink wafer in us all.


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