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Reading: Mimi Smartypants |
Wednesday, May 28th, 2003Blessed be my body, for it has healed itself. On Tuesday last I decided to break the cycle of the endlessly boring day by taking the steetcar out to Romani Wool on Queen West. This, of course, meant that I had to go outside since the underground only goes to City Hall and not, as I would have liked, all over town (oh, if only I could shop around the city without ever having to breathe fresh air!). Unfortunately for me, though, it began to rain quite heavily as soon as I got to Romani, so after I picked out my wool (aubergine Debbie Bliss wool for socks, which I am wearing now) I had to sprint accross the street in the pouring rain to catch my streetcar back to the office, and in the process I got a little soaked. Then I had to sprint back to the office from the Queen and York stop, so I got even more soaked. Needless to say, by the time I got back to my desk, I had caught a cold. But now, after a little over a week of sickness, I am almost cured. The cuts on my face from blowing my nose too much have healed and I now have smooth, smooth skin again, and the nose blowing is down to a pleasant once an hour maximum. It's nice being healthy. Other recent instances in which my body healed itself:
Hm, that wasn't a very good list, was it? Continuing with the body theme, sometimes I like to experiment with different ways of doing everyday things. When I first got my fall jacket, so instance, I started putting it on by swinging one arm over my head, and now I can't remember how to put on a jacket any other way. And then today, as I was running down the hallway to the photocopier, I discovered that I was running like a ballet dancer would, on the balls of my feet and without changing my height much or bending my knees. But I can't remember how to run normally. Am I supposed to put my heel down? How much arm swinging is involved? Am I supposed to bob up and down? I have no idea. I hope to figure it out soon, though, otherwise the ballet running combined with the already disturbing hand geastures I supposedly make when I run (arms streight down, wrist bent out, hands like oars in the air) will make me more ridiculous than I can bear to be. Mmm. Just went downstairs to Shopsy's to get a cookie and a milk and the bill came to 35 cents more than I had. The nice lady, however, gave me the stuff anyway even though I offered to take a smaller milk. She said she trusted me because she knew I worked in the building above her shop. Funny to think that the ten seconds I spend in her shop per week are enough to make her remember me. Come to think of it, though, most of the people who work in the food court below the office know who I am, because they find it humorous that I work for both my parents. The ladies at the Greek restaurant laugh when they see me because for about a month and a half I came to see them every day to get my mum's lunch. She was having a little romance with tzatziki at the time. It was odd. And the girls at the bagel place know that I like egg salad with no lettuce or tomato on my sesame bagel. They have such good memories. Okay, no more talk of office boringness. Time to go home. Over and out.
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