So sorry my last post was "deep"-ressing .. Was up to my usual antics and firing off in all directions, with each line of that post dedicated to a different person. Had so much time on my hands, you see. 

Anyway, after my stint on the sofa, my neck and the sofa along with the left side of my lower back decided to get into a squabble. I tried to mediate and tell them each to get a life, but they continued to argue until I had to forcefully separate them. So now the sofa is left all alone in the living room, with the boxes, which have also developed a life of their own and creating mischief. Let's see if the sofa is able to do all that work on its own. Me, my neck and back will stay here in the safety of my study until my better half is home to deal with this domestic dispute. Meanwhile, the sofa decided on confiscate the remote control and TV too. Damn. What am I gonna do with the rest of my day? 

To add insult to injury it's cloudy and going to rain. I cut a deal with someone yesterday that if he manages to make the shisha work, and let me have as many puffs as I want, I will give him the shisha, plus a year's supply of tobacco in return. It is one of several shisha kits I brought with me when I came to Canada to create a Middle Eastern ambiance in this forsaken land. Needless to say, I wasn't able to operate the damned piece of machinery. And with the weather not behaving itself today, I think I am stuck indoors with my shisha and tobacco and the fire alarm. Not that I will attempt to ignite the shisha indoors. I am not desperate. It has been sat in its corner for four years and we have both not complained. 

The fire alarm and I don't get along too. Every time I operate the piece of equipment better known as an oven in some parts of the civilised world, the alarm goes off. I really don't have the patience for screamers. So every time it starts yelling, like a prostitute who hasn't been paid after the lamest sex ever, I just walk away from it. Screamers realise that they are wasting their breath when you ignore them and eventually shut up. And my manners don't allow me to stoop that low and engage with noise makers whose only mandate in life is to draw attention to themselves. 

And then what's with prostitutes and all this discrimination against them. Like, if men weren't so needy and grubby, there wouldn't be prostitutes right?  But this isn't the time for talking about prostitutes and men. I have work to do, and packing and boxes. And no time. Remember how my time is up. So up in fact that it is dragging me down.

So the boxes are here and you would think it's easy to find manageable boxes right? Wrong. The only decent boxes you can find here are the ones you purchase from UHaul. I tried to skimp and look for boxes at supermarkets, which only had the open banana boxes - the ones with bananas drawn all around, holes and an open top. Not being a monkey, I decided to dish out some hard earned cash on boxes. That is - to date - the most ridiculous purchase I have completed in my life. And don't you get any weird ideas as my relationship with money is that of a fool. No matter what we do, we are soon parted. But money isn't the issue.  It never is. Seriously. 

Back to the boxes, I bought, with actual money. I get the biggest boxes and decide that they will become the temporary home of all our books. And we do consume books. Books. Dangerous collections of words. Words. Lethal combinations of letters. Letters. Those come in consonants and vowels. And I can go on till morning if you insist. It is only time that I am burning. Time and, as an after thought, life. Not too sure on that last bit though. But this isn't our issue today. 

Back to the boxes. Which are stacked with books. Which have become stubborn and refuse to move. The boxes I mean. I can't even slide the full ones to the other end of the room. After all that back bending treacherous manipulation of space, they simply refuse to cooperate. I even arranged the books in order, by genre, with the one dealing with medicine in one box, and the ones dealing with life and love in the other. Funny how medicine and live and love can't exist in one box? Again, I am drifting and this again isn't the issue or focus of this post. Seriously. 

Back to the boxes and the domestic drama. So the sofa attacks my neck and back and  the boxes and books gang up against me. And the real estate agent is calling and he wants me to move my stuff so that he can show the place. And I too want the stuff to move but it isn't. 

Sigh! What have I done so wrong in my life to deserve this? 


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