Squirmalicious

That moment when you're eating lunch, look down on your plate and see a squirming worm making a break for it.

First thought. Where did that come from.. everything on my plate has either been in a sealed wrapper, the fridge, or the microwave.

Second thought. At least it's still whole, so I know I don't have the other half in my mouth.

Third, fourth and fifth thoughts. Is he alone? Are there others? Have I already eaten them?

Oh god. He (I don't know why or when he became male, but there it is) is still desperately trying to escape my plate. What do I do with him? Squish him? Tip him outside? Cook him? Would he taste better with butter, or coconut? Hmmm....

And thus ended lunch.

Snot shower

Cycling to work at the moment is glorious. It's nippy... but that early-morning pre-warmth chill, rather than this-is-as-good-as-it's-gonna-get winter chill. 

The sun is coming up later, so now I find myself cycling to work just after sunrise. Which, while somewhat depressing (long days are over), is beautiful as the low rays strike through the trees and settle and shimmer on the still canals. We deserve it, after the rotten, sodden summer that we were subjected too. It's so good that even GBM is prepared to take a gentle cycle into town with me, just to enjoy the decent-ish weather while it lasts. 

So there we were, cycling together this morning along a particularly tranquil patch of unkempt grass, looking beautiful in its unmanicured state. The dew was still fresh and sparkly on the leaves, warmed with a slight orange hue from the early morning rays that were just starting to kiss the ground. Everything in front of us was in golden silhouette, as we topped a small bridge, heading directly towards the rising sun. 

We were behind a slower cyclist, and GBM had just made to pass him when the guy turned his head in the same direction, put his right hand up to his face - and without-hesitation, explosively blew out the contents of his left nostril. I was close enough behind the nasal expulsion to get a beautiful demonstration of just how far snot can fly when backlit by early morning sun. 

The fact that the two of us were directly in his mucous-trajectory did not perturb the snotter in the slightest. He turned his head the other way, raised left hand and loudly expelled the remains from his other nostril, complete with the same spectacular splay of visual mucousity. 

I'm fairly confident I caught both angles directly in the face. I'm so glad we could share that moment with him, and will shortly be sharing his cold and flu germs too. It was awesome. 

Anti-neat freak

I don't know why it has to be so hard. I tidy it up, and I give myself a stern talking to each time. "There..." I tell myself, "now all you have to do, is just put things back as you use them/don't need them. It's so easy really, I don't know why I didn't think of it before.."

It should be that simple. And yet, just a few days later (a week, if I'm particularly well behaved), we're back to the same stage: 

Piles, lumps and clumps of clothing, hair accessories, toiletries, jewelry. Which will get moved around or regrouped as when items are required and discarded. It's horrifying. I literally disgust myself.

I don't consider myself a complete slob. I generally take a vague interest in looking somewhat presentable when I go out in public. My handbag is always organised, my car (when I had one) was never a pigsty. I am a logical, rational person. I like order. Not chaos. Why then, can I not simply put things away in an reasonable fashion?

I've tried the tricks. I've got the tubs and containers to keep jewelry and hair products in their place. But they somehow still end up encroaching and intermingling with each other, along with make-up and possibly feminine hygiene products. It does not make for easy locating of the matching earring when you can't see the counter for tampons and face creams.

So why do I put it off until it all gets to a complete state of disarray - to the point that I want to (and do) scream in frustration because I can't find ANYTHING. Literally, a room full of crap on the floor and I can't find ANYTHING.

I blame my upbringing. I don't know why, but I think this is the appropriate course of action for personality malfunctions. Which this clearly is. It's not me, it's my personality.

Right, procrastination over... I really need to tidy my room now.