Would you stay if she promised you heaven?

Cerri says:

"Rainbow mosaic flower vases, dream catchers, coffee in a variety of strength and taste, and red. That is my day."

Red was a big theme. At the hospital it was the Physiotherapists blouse. In the car it was the colour I felt most, being rage, and maybe even out-of-control like a bull who charges at a waving red cloth, even though we all know it's not the colour but the waving which attracts the bulls attention. It was the colour on the take away bag that the shop assistant gave me to store the flowers in because the stems were poking through the plastic bag and, therefore, dripping water on the cafe floor, therefore spiraling me even further own Alice's rabbit hole of chaotic disaster. Red is the colour of a ball of wool sitting on my over-cluttered desk, a collection of random books covers mixed in with a suitcase full of books I lugged to my car and piled neatly on the seat as a means of storage, and the little light on my bar heater that I am using to dry my only comfortable pair of work pants so I can wear them tomorrow. And lastly, it is the colour theme of Youtube, which is trying it's hardest to calm my horrified soul at the destruction and positively traumatic state of my bedroom as I try to get about six months of mouse stuff out of it.

Six months.

I'll just let that sink in.

Yes, it is rather terrifying, isn't it? It does induce a rising feeling akin to that of a total meltdown frenzy, doesn't it? 

Not only did I find a layer of mouse droppings under my bookshelf- because these days furniture is built with that thin space at the bottom, FOR GOD KNOWS WHAT PURPOSE, and it's designed in such a way that the space faces the wall so insects and rodents can build an entire ecosystem and live in it for about, oh I don't know, eternity- I also found droppings under another cupboard with the exact same space setup, and am only just finding out this very minute that my wardrobe has an EVEN BIGGER SPACE under it where MULTIPLE MICE have pretty much fouled up the entire unit from underneath, middle, to top.

I won't even mention the smell I noticed upon breaking some wood off the bottom of my wardrobe so I could peek in. 

Not even going to mention the state of the carpet under there. Or basically the entire carpet of my entire room.

Red is the colour of a mild heart attack.

So I have a mouse invasion! Pretty neat! Amazingly adventurous! I can and will totally kick this mouse or mice family back out into the wild where it/they belong and completely cleanse my room in some sort of wiccan/witchy/spiritual/smudgey sage stick way, but also with lots of action, possible tears, loss of sweat, and a massive dose of blaringly-loud Talking Head songs on repeat.

The Plan

1. Knock down the wardrobe, store clothes on a temporary clothes rack thing, clean and vacuum under wardrobe. Try to block this event from my memory.

2. Get copper wool, or something like dish steel wool stuff, and plug the hole- YES! A HOLE! RIGHT IN THE CORNER OF MY ROOM FOR EVERY MOUSE AND MOUSE FRIEND AND OTHER FURRY TYPE FRIEND TO JUST COME WALTZING IN FROM AND SET UP SHOP WITHOUT PAYING RENT AND WITH THE AUDACITY TO EAT ALL THE MIDDLES OUT OF MY CUPCAKE PATTIES. 

3. Set up a good few mouse traps with mouse-appetising foods like twisties, peanut butter and chocolate.

4. Shop around, find wardrobe with either no bottom space or really tall legs, buy wardrobe, lug wardrobe home, set up, take nap, wake and admire said wardrobe.

- Chuck out all of my clothes

- Buy all new clothes

- Chuck out all my furniture except the table my dad made

- Buy ALL NEW furniture: two large bookcases in white, one bedside table with drawers in white, one cabinet with drawers devoted ENTIRELY to lady undergarments 

- Roll around in all this money I have somehow acquired

- Cry into a mug of hot cocoa with melting marshmallows because I really liked all my odd furniture, it had memories, and I'm a sensitive, sentimental soul who collects things upon a whim, and I really, really, don't like slimy melting marshmallows in my drink and why does life have to be so unfair

 Other Things I Did Today That Pale In Comparison To My Mouse Drama (In order of appearance)

*Wobbled as I knelt down to pick up a spilled container of butter portions at work and had to steady myself. (THIS IS IMPORTANT FOR LATER)

*Noticed that there was a GIGANTIC SPIDER ON THE FLOOR WHERE I WAS WORKING

-WHERE I HAD JUST WOBBLED

--JUST SITTING THERE WITH A BENT LEG

---IT COULD POSSIBLY BE BROKEN

----WHY, I COULD HAVE BROKEN IT... WHEN I WOBBLED AND SAT CASUALLY BUT QUICKLY ONTO THE GROUND

----- I.... COULD.... HAVE.... SAT.... ON.... A.... SPIDER.... 

*Rang up a lady in a different area to come and deal with it for me. ^__^

*Bought two coffees from a vending machine. Now this is where I absolutely draw the line. FIRSTLY, they had no lids. So there I was, holding a bunch of flowers between my arm and side while holding two open, hot, dangerously close to the top coffees, and I had to keep stopping to inch my fingers up the cup to that millimeter or so of free space (and here we have another object with a space issue, one I prepared earlier, cleverly put together, affordable, pleasing to the eye, but it's just missing that something... 3/10!!).

SECONDLY, after making my way down the long, winding hallways at a snails pace in an awkward crab-like position, I decided to sip my coffee so as to reduce the amount of awkwardness I was giving off in general, and that was a mistake.

Vending machine coffee is the worst. I don't understand how it can be so bad when it's literally just Nescafe blend. What is Nescafe putting in their vending machine blend? What are they even doing? How are they living their lives?

So I ditched those cups asap and legged it to a freshly brewed cafe where I paid for two decent coffees and one custard tart that I knocked on the ground before being able to eat, and let me tell you. That first sip was heaven. Not entirely as heavenly as my Peterbae's smell, and not quite as heavenly as realising you don't have to wake up and go to work the next day, but close enough.

Plus it was rainy, cloudy, and cold outside, and that just makes really great coffee and sitting in a chair all the better.

*Does anyone else think they see something move out of the corner of their eye all the time lately? Or is it just me? 

*Meal-prepped like a boss. Nine meals consisting of brown rice, broccoli, carrot, potato, sweet potato and pumpkin are all ready to go or freeze. Add chicken or chickpea, onion and garlic mix as you like.

* Turned my laptop off and on because, once again, my mouse-pad glitches and stops working, thus freezing the whole computer.

Cerri says:

"I feel like spontaneously combusting, but I think I can hold it in for another day. By doing small things that matter, such as a load of washing, a load of dishes, and moving a pile of stuff out of my room to make space (once again: more is less!) every day, I can gradually chip away at this massively, hideously, outrageously too big task looming before me and complete it with ease and without losing my mind."

*(^_^)* 

Could I possibly trouble you for seconds?

Vincent had a tried and true method of staying on the broom whilst riding.
His method was glue.
"You d- you glu- you WHAT?!" spluttered Tarot.
Vincent winced, tried to turn around and look at the perfectly straight, perfectly polished, and expertly-tied broomstick, but hit a lamp post with the end, winced again, and frowned at a sloppily painted frog ornament sitting against the fence.
"WHY WOULD YOU DO SUCH A THING?" Tarot howled and stamped. "AM I JUST A PRETTY FACE? DOES MY EXTREME GROOMING AND ENTIRE COLLECTION OF CELION DION IGNITE A DESPERATE URGE FOR YOU TO PROVE YOURSELF TO ME?"
"I beg yours," Vincent straightened, winced as the end of the broomstick attached to his bottom hit the ground, and fixed this 'Tarot' with his almighty glare. "I have no such urges, as you say. I am a happily married man-"
Tarot stamped his dainty, rather shiny, boot once again. His face had turned an unhealthy shade of red that, paired with his unnaturally orange hair and orange-red clothes, made him look like the beginning of a rainbow. "MY BROOMSTICK IS SPLINTERING ON YOUR VERY BACKSIDE, NAY, THE VERY FABRIC OF YOUR BACKSIDE! I DEMAND ANSWERS! I DEMAND THIS HOLE IN MY SHOE TO BE FIXED! I DEMAND SOLACE FROM YOU AND YOUR ASTONISHING LARGE BODY!"
"Yeah alright, alright!" Vincent called over the top of him. He'd been turning and straightening for a good few minutes and non of it had gotten him anywhere. If anything, Vincent felt that his movements had caused the broom to splinter further into his behind and he was not ready for such intrusion.
"You talk back to me!" Tarot breathed furiously. "To ME?!"
"Keep it all on the table for a minute!" Vincent said loudly, with agitation and dismissal that could not be ignored. He was preparing himself mentally and physically to do something he had hoped never in his life to ever have to do.
Tarot saw this facial expression, this stance, this sudden change in demeanor. "No!" he gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"
Vincent snickered. He should never have dared get on this broom in the first place. Flying at top speed as high up as the sun was an excellent idea unless you were afraid of heights, which Vincent was. Not only was he morbidly obese, he was also morbidly afraid of riding in an airplane, looking out of a two story window, watching the numbers in an elevator increase, the thought of chimneys, daydreaming or overhearing a conversation about hot air balloons, and seeing crickets up close.
"I told you to slow down up there!" Vincent yelled in a careful and very still manner.
"Broomsticks have only one speed," Tarot said pompously.
"I was leaning so far back I saw the ring of Saturn!"
Tarot gingerly rubbed his sides. "Don't remind me."
"And all the stops!" Vincent swept his arm wide as if gesturing to a jumbled collection of tangible stops. "Who has time for all that landing and taking off? I was forced to fasten myself! In any way I could!"
"I am an errand boy!" Tarot yelled. "I run the errands and I only, ONLY, polish with Traxwax twice a day as it says upon the packaging!"
"Well!" Vincent hissed with a gleam in his eye. "WAX THIS!"
"OH WAIT!" Tarot stepped forwards with his arms up just as Vincent bent down with a rumble of a cry, reached between his legs, grabbed the broom end (which, Vincent had to admit, was extremely polished, so polished that he was firstly: afraid his hands would slide off, and secondly: reminded of his bald Uncle Barnaby who was in desperate need of a good polishing product) and pulled as hard as his jiggly arms would allow.
"PERSEPINE!"
Vincent howled in pain. In one surprisingly swift motion, the broom, his trousers, his underpants, and a small portion of his skin all went hurtling up into the air.
"Flumpering lumberjacks!" Vincent squealed. He slowly reached around and touched the patch of raw skin. "Quick!" he called out to Tarot. "Do a healing spell!"
Tarot, in a motion not unlike that of a movie villain, casually flung his hand out to the side, almost without thinking, and caught his falling, splintered, now-bent broom. "May the wrath of a thousand tiny flea-infested ants roam your body and leave you with no peace until your parting day on this earth. And what of healing ointments you must surely try? They will fail! THEY ALL WILL FAIL YOU!"
Vincent blinked in rapid succession. "That's a funny sounding healing spell."
Tarot looked as if he would snap like an overly-tall, overly-autumn, severely orange twig. His hands clenched in rage and his whole body shook with what could have been a silent curse of intent or an extreme urge to line dance, but was most likely just a fit of intense rage towards this man who had half his bum showing in public.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I HAVE NURTURED THIS FINE SPECIMEN OF WOOD?!" Tarot shouted.
"Well, err, I would guess-"
"LONGER THAN YOU HAVE EVER SPENT SITTING ON A TOILET! OR PRUNING YOUR CACTUS! OR TAKING PART IN ALL THE OTHER IMPOSSIBLE THINGS YOU DO AT FOUR FIFTY-EIGHT IN THE AM YOU ALTERNATIVE TANDY BARN OWL!"
"Pruning my-?"
Tarot raised his arms, his eyes wide, his hair flying about his head, for some reason, as if an invisible hair dryer was blowing in his face, and he opened his mouth.
Vincent cringed into himself with his hands still covering his bottom. He was sure that Tarot would spout a curse so horrible it would be like the time Vincent had to spend the summer with his Aunt Millistein in the town of Harrowsbay Shore. The entire occasion had been spent either eating boiled cabbage with cashew nuts in, or playing backgammon on a board made from an old man's termite-ridden kitchen cabinet door, and every morning Vincent would come downstairs to find disturbingly large holes chewed out where his own checkers had been.
"WHAT ARE YOU DILL BATONS DOING DOWN THERE?"
The high-pitched shrill of a woman tore Vincent out of his disturbing memory. He opened one eye. Had Tarot's curse somehow backfired and turned him into a female? Come to think of it, Vincent hadn't heard Tarot say anything at all. Maybe he was one of those accomplished lot who could do magic in their heads. Yes, that was it.
Tarot was frowning up at a woman leaning out of a fourth story window.
"AS IS YOUR ORDER, YOUNG MAIDEN FROM THE EAST-" he called up to her while performing an elaborate bow, but she cut him off.
"Oh you're so old fashioned you make my glass slippers cry!" the woman snorted and waved the drink she was holding precariously over her window ledge. "Go read a book! But before you do that, come in and watch me charm my squash tree."

*

      6^^^^6
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How do we all shatter into different tiny pieces?

Rose tried very hard to back away but knocked into a chair. Her legs were long and pale and not at all used to running. They weren't even used to moving freely. Her body was like a sack filled with bulky potatoes; her mind blank as though blown clean of intelligent activity; her soul hungry but her heart taking over...

Wasn't that the destruction of all things? The heart?

She put her arms over her face. Not again. Please... I'm so tired.
A sob broke free and the soft pink smoke took up residence once more, filling every crevice of her mind with urges and whispers.

~

Eden kicked out aimlessly and let her leg fall back to the other one, staring at the mark on her shoe. Had that always been there? Or-
"Get yer wig on!" came a voice and she felt something suddenly on her head. A year eleven was ruffling her hair.
"Hey-!" she jerked back.
He grinned at her as he sauntered past, gave her the tick sign, and turned away, catching the sunlight streaming in from the windows.
Eden gasped. "Jared!" she called out after him.
The boy turned.
"You've got something on your face," Eden pointed to her own cheek, "Just here."
Jared grinned and then laughed.
"No, you do."
She squinted- was it? It had to be, she'd spent all morning looking at it- yes, he had a smear of fairy dust shining black and blue on his right cheek. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Just here-" she called again, a little frantically, but he laughed her off, turned, and walked into an open locker door.
Oh.
"Fuck!"
Eden spun around and ran.

~

Brandi looked down at the note in her hand. The envelope felt like it was worth one hundred dollars exactly. It was thick, creamy white with a shine to it like proper wedding invite envelopes; like there was a piece of parchment inside asking her to high tea with someone royal.
Her heart fluttered for no reason as she knew what it was.
She slid the envelope open and watched her long, thin fingers pull out a small, black, square card with white writing scrawled on one side.
"North wall. Five up seventeen across. Laters be cut." Brandi read out-loud. Laters be cut? she thought with a frown. The wind chased strands of her hair about in front of her face so it really did look like the words had been cut, but what did that mean?
She blew out a breath and looked across at the school gate, her heart still wild and her hair tasting like caramel for some reason. One thing could be said about Deeta: he wasn't as cryptic as he thought he was.

~

"You don't put Amorath in with Emerald, the effects are far too great," Alyssa said with a hint of exasperation and, once again, crossed out Frances's handwriting and scribbled in her own.
"Amorath? I didn't say Amorath-"
"It's right here, look 'Am- oh..." she brought the notebook closer to her face.
"Careful!"
Alyssa felt Frances pull her out of harms way but she was too busy to pay much attention. "Allium?"
"I wrote Amomum, it's cardamom," Frances said around her lollipop.
Alyssa rolled her eyes, "We're not using proper names, Frances! Just put Cardamom in!"
"It's for code purposes!"
"Jeez. Anyway-" she ran her eyes down the page. There were a lot of errors. She had no hope of fixing it all in the next five minutes. She could feel her hands start to shake and her chest tighten at the very thought.
"Come on Aly, we're running out of time."
"Ok! Ok... umm, do you have the potion?"
Frances took out a small bottle from her skirt pocket that was filled with green liquid. "And I have the incantation." She held up a tightly rolled piece of paper tied with string that had been artistically burned at both edges.
"Good, ok. Let's go behind that tree."
Shielded from the main road, Alyssa dropped two light blue pills into Frances's outstretched hand and took two herself.
Relief flooded her body like a burst water balloon.

~

Are we The Waiting?

I spent the last year as a ghost.

And there were frightfully dull moments,
I'd had enough of my opponents
closing in
proposing things
like failed virtues and exposing sins.

The haze surrounding my fragile creature,
I tried so hard to come out and meet her
halfway
but she'd stray,
back unseen where she spent her days.

And I fought, I'll tell you now,
I fought so hard I had forgotten how
far I'd come,
but we were both too numb,
repelling ourselves until we became too dumb.

In my mind I'd gotten weaker,
failing all to try and free her
supposed light,
I'd lost my sight.
and instead I'd set my fear alight.

Gardening gloves or Witches hats?

"THIS IS NONSENSE!"
"IT BLOODY WELL IS!"
"Shall we carry on then?"
"Oh I suppose, one must, mustn't they?"
"Surely must."
"Cream biscuit?"
"Good lord yes."
"Half off."
"You're joking."
"Never joke about the price of Allonzees."
"No you wouldn't, would you."
"Mighty fine taste though..."
"Bloody brilliant."
"Like the inside of a bouncy castle."
"Yes. I was thinking exactly the same."
"You'll never guess who had a tragic fall on one of those bouncy castles the other day..."
"Probably wouldn't. Wasn't Seamus, was it? Right fool."
"Mary-Anne."
"No!"
"Ever such a scandal. She never did wear proper fitting shoes..."
"Load of rubbish those bouncy castles, aren't they eh?"
"Such rubbish."
"Still, what a sight..."
"Oh brilliant sight, heard she did a somersault and all."
"Well I say, what utter nonsense."
"Entire nonsense, nothing worth noting in it at all..."
"Oh yes, quite right..."

....

4__^

Witch way out of here?

"Oh! How daring..." came a voice from the hallway, and the next moment in strode a tall, well-dressed chap with short orange hair and a prolonged nose that ended with a slight point. "I daresay, not twice as extravagant as Mary-Anne's wallpaper, but thrice! Think of the scandal!"
"Excuse me!" Vincent called out at this point, bewildered and curious but mostly put out because he was in the middle of reading his favourite section of the newspaper: 'The Strodes', a fictional family featured every week who got up to blatant mischief that Vincent would never dream of. He normally read it without his trousers on, sitting comfortably on his favourite pillow, propped up in his biggest, most polished but least cleaned, armchair while the fire warmed his leg and navel hairs and the fan above whipped a cool breeze through his comb-over. However, being that it was below seven outside Vincent had elected to keep his neatly ironed trousers on and was suddenly overly grateful.
"I beg your pardon," he went on, shaking the paper for good measure. It was a famous move on television movies and he was adamant to obey the new trends. "Who are you? And why are you in my house?"
The orange-haired man said: "Oh dear, didn't Elena tell you?" and Vincent felt his face set into a hard line. He'd have a talk with that woman once she got home.
"No," he said gruffly, "daresay not."
"Well then! There's no delay!" the stranger swept his arm across his body in a flourish and leaned forward. "My name is Tarot-"
"Now there'll be none of that," Vincent said sternly.
The man named Tarot stopped mid-sweep and looked up. "Of what, sorry?"
"Of your feminine movements of woo. I am not a man with which to partake in your verbal dance! My clothes are staying on! Now... much to the dismay of my poor butler here, you're showing your clavicle in a room full of men."
Tarot swept back up and arranged his tunic collar, frowning at Vincent in a way that Tarot had never frowned before and that Vincent had never been frowned at before. It was a frown of great dislike and minor suspicion. As if Vincent had used some magic spell to move Tarot's collar and allow embarrassment to settle upon him like light rain on a spring day.
"I wish to inform you that you are being summoned." Tarot said coolly.
"Summoned?" Vincent repeated stupidly. "What for?"
"Do I look like I know?" Tarot said, still as cool as ever. "I am merely a man who runs errands and sometimes, when the feeling is mutual and the weather permitting, allowed to buy a bundle of string.
"String, ey," Vincent said conversationally because he was practiced at these conversational situations.
"Yes," Tarot said as he raised his shoulders in a proud way and tilted his head back. This gave Vincent the grand viewing point of up Tarot's nose. He was a funnily-dressed man, Vincent noted, in his orange and red tunic, brown tights and gold wrist bands. Perhaps he entertained. Perhaps he was one of them. Excitement bubbled up from his stomach and fluttered about into his chest.
"Alright," Vincent agreed gruffly to hide this childish emotion and stood up. He gave a great horse-like cough, with his double chin wobbling so hard it sent vibrations down throughout his chest to his humongous gut that started to slowly swing. "Where am I being taken then?"
Tarot stood, transfixed.
"Yoohoo, young man! Are you proper in the head? Hello!"
"I-" Tarot couldn't pull his gaze away from the swaying tummy that jiggled like a mound of pudding. He hadn't realised, of course, what with the newspaper being in the way. And unfortunately for Tarot, overly large men were something of a rarity where he came from. When one became only half the size of this man, they were sent away to a facility for either corrective procedures that could take months to perform, or used as research material and were hardly ever heard from again.
"I had an Aunt Betty," Tarot said suddenly, pulling himself out of his trance and into a memory. He raised himself a little taller so his eyes had further to travel, were they tempted to look down.
Vincent was frowning at this dimwitted jester."Did you now..." He must be having a turn, he thought, fearfully.
"She went away-was taken, they took her away-"
Vincent snorted. "Funny turns run in the-"
"She just ate and ate..." Tarot continued sadly, showing signs of things about him slowing down. A darkened shadow seemed to settle in the room.
Vincent glanced about wildly, "Now listen here-"
"She used to have cakes piled as high as this ceiling, piles and piles of cakes sitting on her table and kitchen floor and around her bed, like a cake museum-"
"I will have none of-"
"I had one fall on me, did I ever tell you?" Tarot asked in a drooping sad way, as if they were lifelong friends and he was recounting a story they both knew.
"Did you-tell me?" Vincent spluttered
"I was only nine at the time and I walked right by one of the stacks, a pure innocent babe as I was then, minding my own business-"
Vincent raised his paper, "Now listen he-'
"And right at that very moment!" Tarot burst out, almost leaping forth and flinging his arms out as if letting doves go free at a wedding, "The topmost croquembouche fell straight down upon my head! I had caramel in my hair for days!"
"Goodness man!" Vincent turned to the  butler, who had remained stationary throughout their entire interaction. "Are you seeing this display of madness? Cockery it is! Foul play! Now you tell me this instant where I am going and you tell me without your fancy do-hows!"
Tarot gazed sadly at Vincent and said: 'It is most certainly cockery, fine sir, you see how we live and the dangers with which we take threat daily. I am honoured to have your sympathy." he bowed. Vincent stared.
Then Tarot whipped up with a smile on his face and cried, "Alas we go now to the sisters and the brothers of the Way! We must help them untangle their own webs! Silly ones they are. You are Vincent the Nineth yes?"
Vincent said, "I rightly well am!"
Tarot beamed. "Well do! Let us make journey where you can use your magic once again. Reawaken those stale spells and wilting wonders!" he threw an arm around Vincent and steered the bewildered man out of the sitting room. "And you can explain to me the whereabouts of this extraordinary wallpaper! Oh do! Mary-Anne will be absolutely distraught with envy!..."

_______*_______

~Up next week! Does Vincent secretly know Avalon? Will he be able to tell Portle and Tarot apart? Can he really concoct the most spelliest breakfast to ever contain one hundred ingredients and charms that no magical being has ever been brave enough to try?
Stay tuned as Tarot hurls Vincent into the world of magic and we see if he sinks in the rising tide or flies on a strategically altered and heavily accommodating broom into the night.

!^__^! v

Where did Gerald actually go?

Hello there!
Welcome to Cerri in human form once again! It's been quite a while, such a long, long while that I started pondering all the things get pondered about when one is off and doing all the things ever to be done- which in my case has been nothing and yet everything at once, and which has most likely just been some of the things slightly above the average happenings.
Yes.
All of the above is one hundred per cent true.
Ok, moving on to things that make sense!
--__6v

I have been busy! Life has been happening! I have been moving! Sometimes at snails pace, sometimes like a gust of wind that leaves a swirl of scattered leaves behind, and at other times also I have moved like a regular human who does regular activities at the regular and appropriate speed. That is to say, I have participated in my usual occupation to earn the moneys at a slightly alarming pace not unlike that of a hurried hare. I have been told that I 'have a smile like sunshine', which I agree and accept with my usual grace, and then I have been scorned also that I 'do everything at a slight run' and that 'if I don't stop running I will gain no cooperation from the people I am supposed to be helping and who are supposed to help me'.
Well.
Alrighty then.
If that is how it must be.
However, I decline. And I run once more.

I actually detest being told what to do. And when you're under the pump, over the time limit, sweating like a rhino on a 100 degree day and listening to your stomach play the usual 'Hungry Now and Forever' and 'My Hunger Will Go On' as loud as anything, it gets to you. You start to dance. Perhaps hum along. People stare at you. They offer you numbers to therapists that 'they got from a friend' or 'for a friend'. Some of them hum along and then this great chorus of hummers accumulate in the one room as they work, scrubbing and preparing, and these people do not know what they are humming to, they just follow along as happily as ever, unaware that THE WHOLE TIME, they have been taking the lead from my stomach.

*Bows.
*Gets out number for therapist from a friend of a friend and squints at it.
*Realises number is actually a shopping list that reads:
1 tomato
7 Quince (quinces)? quincees ? Qui? Like in Oui?
Brown rice
Any herb that goes with fish
Beetroot but not the big can the littleish can is there a one can smaller size get that one

You will notice recently that my day to day logging has merged in with short stories, and that the stories have somehow, without my consent, taken full control of this blog. Power to 'em! Taking over a whole blog isn't easy! It's downright enormous. The effort it takes from all sides is enough to send one trembling, weak-kneed and blurry-eyed, to the bedroom ready to collapse into the never-ending pile of pillows. Why, I do that without the tremendous thought of hosting a siege!
As far as the big life questions go, I often find myself asking: 'Did I really decant rice into a jar with flour?' and 'Was I actually about to put a piece of fish into the frying pan that was heating dishwash liquid instead of good ol Extra Virgin Olive Oil?'
You know, all the important things.
But progress has been made! Here's a list to prove it.

The List of the Truest Progress That I Have Achieved So Far:
~ Bought a house!
~Took a year off Uni.. is that progress? It certainly feels like it. The sleep ins! (Bliss. Warmth. Maids who bring me coffee and play the cello while I awaken...)
~Went on a date with a fella so hilarious I forgot to eat (not even joking) and now we're dating!
~Attempted to knit a beanie. Yes.... It's still on the progress side.
~Took a road trip up to Melbourne to see my sister and drove back entirely in one hit for nine hours, stopping only three times to pee, fill petrol and buy food. #roadtriplife #lotsofcows #freecoffeeandwitches #thecoffeewasfreenotthewitches #i'mprettysuretheyweren'twitches #buttheyhadamazingpowersbecausethatcoffeewasTRIPPINBALLS
~Spent a great portion of my time cutting grass with shears. What a time.
~Consequently, developed an odd and horrendous tan which leaves me with no choice but to now cut and design my own weirdly shaped clothes so I can even it out.
~Absolutely REFUSED to pull the dish plug out of dirty cold water with my bare hands and became quite experimental with instruments that I could use instead.
~Developed this intense passionate love for cold tinned corn kernels. Fleeting, but totally worth it.
~Consumed a lot of pizza for no reason.
~Became at peace with wearing odd socks and doing the whole 'sitting down and the pant leg rises up showing them off' thing, and caring not a damn.
~Learning that tired can be a forever thing.
~Tried to say 'water' in French to a Frenchman at work and ended up just saying 'Oooooo' while he stared at me like a fish.

And the Big Ones:
~Said no and experienced no guilt or bad feelings whatsoever. A big one for me because I always feel terrible afterwards, but I'm at the stage of existence where people can live with it or FRO. Peace.
~Spent more time preparing meals. Also big because I hate cooking. But I prevailed, and because I did so I experienced a lot of unforseen disgusting mashups that gave me cause to quit cooking altogether and do the whole liquid shake meal replacements in chocolate and vanilla.
~Took part in trying to recycle everything. This is a continuous thing. Our waste has been cut down to about half and most of it is just being more aware of food prep and consumption. And frozen vegetables! What a life they lead! All frozenly wrapped up in their cold hard forms, chillin in the back, swapping stories of the outside and passing along tiny frozen marshmallows that get stuck to their tongues... absolute legends and so so tasty.

~But MOST importantly, I learned that you CAN put your pieces back together and that they might be chipped or need smooshing in some areas and taping up in other areas, and that strangers can actually be the best people to help you out, especially elderly women who don't necessarily care about how you got in the situation in the first place but who are happy to just have you keep them company and make you do the coffee runs.

Things I Plan To Do Now That I Am Hip Once More:
Or, you know, have a lot of free time...
~ALL the creativeness. Which includes but is not limited to: continuing with the knitting life, continuing with jewellery making, getting back into writing my novel that I KEEP SAYING I will do but never open the folder, sew clothes and items by hand,  continue drawing faeries and attempt to paint them, continue with my gnome infatuation because four is not an army, bake cupcakes and document the baking process and also experiment with different icing options, try to make baked clay ornaments.
  --Maybe start a vlog about all the projects progress.
~Put my pot plants back outside.
~Get my car serviced, visit the dentist, buy a new pair of glasses, tidy my haircut and buy one piece of new clothing.
~Start a vegetable garden.
~Watch every anime ever.
Aaaaand probably three thousand and seventy one other things that I'm too tired to think about at the moment, but there is a general list to start with.


>Let's smash this life out!
Peace.
And may the force be with you.