Friday, December 04, 2009
The birds and the birds
One of my many 'oh so special' characteristics is that I don't like to open letters. I could tell you about the dislocating fingers and paper cuts I get when I do actually open letters, but that would be a feeble excuse. I just don't like to open letters. They invariably contain things I was happier not knowing about.
This builds up to the point 3 or 4 times a year when I'm drowning in unopened post and guilt trip myself into dealing with it. This may also be the reason I'm in trouble with the student loans people...but don't tell them that. Besides it's a proper phobia according to this article so I'm declaring it as part of my overall specialness. Hmm, wonder if I can get DLA and a care package for it too?
Back to today, when instead of dealing with 3 significantly sized boxes of unopened mail I am writing a blog post. Procrastination is a skill all should have, and after very nearly managing to shred a cheque I've been looking for for a month...I feel it's probably safer to stay away from the paperwork. Well, that and the accidentally getting high in the middle of the afternoon with Convent Girl, but I still blame the phobia.
The accidental highness came about because it's been a busy day. Yes, ok only by my standards, but still, it counts as an excuse. The weather earlier was relatively balmy and the tide high so armed with my spacker cup I set off to reacquaint myself with the bench. It was all very nice, waves lapping and birds making bird noises. As they do. The birds today were of the spectacularly fat variety, but being a tweeter rather than twitcher I can't come up with any better bird observation than to comment on their weight. Maybe it's all the chips Convent Girl and I fed them over the summer?
So back to the birds and the tea. It was so nice I decided to go for a mini death walk. Death walking stopped before I had the pig death flu, when I had to phone Roland to come and rescue me in the police car. It took him less minutes than it perhaps should have done to reach me, but still considerably more than it took to drive me the few meters back to my flat. I'm not sure exactly what my neighbours think of me, but plenty of them commented on my being escorted into my flat in the firm grip of a large policeman.
Fun though flashy blue lights may be, they aren't the most practical of routes home, so death walking was put on hold for a while. The enforced rest at The Best Man's seems to have done me the world of good as today I managed to reach the shelter Roland rescued me from, see my all time favourite graffitti* and get myself safely home. All this on less than a third of my usual dosage of Oxycontin!**
*What's not to like about a declared love for Islam above a swastika?
**Which might just have something to do with the excessive daytime stonedness!