I'm a remarkable woman. The only one who knows this is me and that makes me feel kinda special. My ma once told me, you have to die to be praised. Actually she's said this to me more than once, but I don't count repetitions. Anyway, I just don't like the fact that people will criticize you all your life just because they're going to praise you when you're gone. Total BS, I tell you. I've decided to do something about it. I'm going to praise myself every single day. That's it. And all those stupid people out there need to know that I really don't mind being criticised after I'm dead. But I really need some praise while I'm alive. Okies? Good. Everyone should start right away.
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The coffee machine in my office is dispensing a frothy liquid that tastes like coffee but is actually full of little remnants of dead insects. You might find a broken wing or a tiny hairy leg in there. I can imagine a vengeful beetle sitting in there like the demonic barber of fleet street. The tiny insects in the coffee machine go to have a haircut and he just slits their throats and pushes their body into the coffee powder. And we make coffee and drink it. Some sort of Sweeny Todd is sitting in there. Waiting to rescue his Johanna who probably lives in one of our file cabinets. A tiny delicate blue beetle. Pretty and all...
I must be going mad. I should stop drinking this coffee...
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Baaki khabar mein toh, HM is spending a long weekend with his parents while I slog in the office and return home to two extremely jumpy dogs. And since I can't sleep alone in a king size bed, I let H and P share it with me. They take turns sleeping next to me. Last night I woke up next to P who stretched lazily before licking my nose. Cute critter. Anyway, HM is coming home tonight. Just when I was beginning to enjoy the solitude...
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The coffee machine in my office is dispensing a frothy liquid that tastes like coffee but is actually full of little remnants of dead insects. You might find a broken wing or a tiny hairy leg in there. I can imagine a vengeful beetle sitting in there like the demonic barber of fleet street. The tiny insects in the coffee machine go to have a haircut and he just slits their throats and pushes their body into the coffee powder. And we make coffee and drink it. Some sort of Sweeny Todd is sitting in there. Waiting to rescue his Johanna who probably lives in one of our file cabinets. A tiny delicate blue beetle. Pretty and all...
I must be going mad. I should stop drinking this coffee...
_____________________________________________
Baaki khabar mein toh, HM is spending a long weekend with his parents while I slog in the office and return home to two extremely jumpy dogs. And since I can't sleep alone in a king size bed, I let H and P share it with me. They take turns sleeping next to me. Last night I woke up next to P who stretched lazily before licking my nose. Cute critter. Anyway, HM is coming home tonight. Just when I was beginning to enjoy the solitude...
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