First thing yesterday morning, NL greeted me at work like this: “I never knew you had so much patience!”. Later, a couple of people told me what a good listener I am. Then a different colleague, hearing me on the phone to a human lizard, exclaimed ‘Ooh, how tactful you are’.
Is that me? Are you folks sure?
Fear overcame me yesterday morning when Jod told me a friend confessed to her that there is nothing more to sustain her in life but antidepressants and us. Relying on antidepressants is already bad enough, but relying on us… ?
In the evening I went to a beautiful talk (trying to expand my horizons here). That stupid git of a (probably) student saw fit to make three people stand up passing through on her way out during the question session, in her high heels negotiating the floor tiles. Four fucking minutes before the talk finished. I so much wanted to stick out my leg and make her trip, landing on her face of a blasé imbecile. Still angry.
Traffic jam. A woman jumps the queue and sneakily tries to wedge in front of me, but ends up to my left. I decide to give her neither the finger (Jod’s road rage trademark), nor the Compatrido gesture (mine). I just stare at her in reprimand mouthing ‘where do you think you are going?’ to her.
No expression change, not a single muscle twitching. No expression, either. The queue moves about 20 cm forward. She tries again to wedge between mine and the car in front. I would not let her. I turn to her again and once more mouth: ‘where do you think you are going?’ The same death mask of a non-expression. I have seen that on Outposter drivers doing something antisocial too many times. Non-confrontation, passive aggression, levantine cunning.
The hopeless cow was still trying to join the queue when I last saw her in my rear view mirror.
I managed to find E Reader on the phone yesterday. She almost shouted in joy when she heard me. Ok, she is giving birth today (will they really go for ‘Victor’? I still prefer ‘Stephan’) but that was not it. It was that moments before my phonecall W Boson was told he had got the job, the real one. “Friends who really love you just sense these things!” she exclaimed to W Boson, who was standing next to her. I was truly moved: that was a lot on her behalf in exchange for nothing.
The baloons are still lightly tapping against the ceiling, bonbon-coloured jellyfish floating inside the room, their swaying strings always tantalising Gizmo who is bent on chewing them to extinction.