Please excuse the incoming whining, but I’m siiickkk. This is the worst viral thing ever! (Except for all those ones that actually, you know, kill people.) I think I might have somehow caught a man-cold.
I’ve managed to sleep more this week than I’ve ever slept before in my life. Yesterday I took sick leave, and I slept solidly from 8am through to 5pm. I only woke, because that’s when one of the flatties got home and vacuumed…
…Also because I was sleeping a puddle of disgusting sweat.
(Yes. Sexy. I know. Trust me, I felt sexy.)*
*(Oh, wait, no. I felt sweaty. That’s what I felt.)
After all that exhausting sleeping, I went back to bed for another solid nights sleep. And a few more hours of all essential napping this morning. Followed by a very modest two hour snooze this afternoon.
Anyway, that’s not what this post is all about because if it was I’d be all “I slept lots. The end.” Nope, this post is all about my post morning nap, and pre afternoon snooze excursion from my sick-bed. I’d rate it maybe a 4.5 out of 10, as far as excursions go.
I was driven out of the house because of a fierce need for groceries, so I decided to take a gentle afternoon shopping trip. I bussed to Lambton Quay, and while I was waiting for my change-over bus, I brought the cutest hat. It looks like a cross between this:
It’s gray and I got it from Peter Alexander for $30, and I love it a lot. BUT. I do not have this adorable hat on my disappointed and unhappy head right now. Keep reading for a convoluted and feverish explanation as to why.
Anyway, after I had obtained the cutest winter hat on the entire planet I caught a bus to the pet store, because my light-hearted attempt at grocery shopping was quickly turning into an epic disaster-filled ordeal.
I brought some fish stuff, and accidentally found myself the unwilling audience of The Professor of Fish. I stood there politely, with sweat running down my back, my throat on fire, and a headache big enough to drop an elephant to its knees, and learnt all about my filter, and value for money, and how carbon works, and your fish-to-litres ratio.
Then I brought a heater and a thermometer, to make to over-informed (yet very helpful) smartypants shop assistant go away, and a new fish called Mac, to reward myself for not telling the over informed helpful smartypants that he was hashing my buzz, man.
(Also: What? I’m not a fish geek. I just like pimping my tank.)
(Ok. I am a fish geek.)
Anyway, I get to the counter, and I’m all DUH. Because actually, the only reason I dragged my poor infected, achy body out of the house was because I desperately needed filter stuff, and food. So I had to go back and pull some James Bond moves to get past the overly helpful shop assistant.
And you know what? It is TOUGH commando crawling underneath a shelf full of fish food, in order to avoid catching someone’s eye in the security mirror. Especially if you’re all bundled up for winter, and carrying a live fish.
Anyway. By the time I was all done with this filter-stuff shopping I was freaking EXHAUSTED. So I waited for my fifty-millionth bus of the day to come, and then gathered up most of my stuff, to head to the grocery store.
Yeah. MOST of my stuff.
I got Mac the fish, and 50 bajillion tons of fish crap, and my handbag, my gloves, my scarf, my back-up thermal top, my jacket (all of which I had to take off in the pet store)*
BUT I FORGOT MY CUTE LITTLE BAG WITH THE ADORABLE GREY HAT WITH EARS.
And now I’m never going to get the satisfaction of showing up at my mothers house and saying “Look I’m a kitty!” and have her frown at me that way she does when she’s trying to figure out if they accidentally swapped me in the hospital with some other couple’s newborn child.
Anyway. I did the groceries. And Mac, the new fish seems to be settling in quite well. And the fish filter has new filtery stuff in it which makes me feel less like a terrible adoptive fish-parent. But all of this feels very hollow when I think of my adorable hat sitting all by itself at the bus stop, all wrapped up in cute tissue paper, in a luxurious bag.
Although… I guess I could twist this another way:
I’ll bet there’s someone out there who was having a great Wednesday. They visited the pet store, and maybe stopped for espresso at the authentic french cafe, with that totally hot french barista. Then, as they waited at the bus stop they noticed a pink bag, peeking out from underneath the seat. Curiosity gets the better of them, and they lean down, only to find my abandoned hat, all wrapped up like a gift, just for them.
The gift of adorableness.
See? It’s not quite so devastating when I think about it like that. I’ll bet that hat gets a really good home.
In the mean-time, I might pop down to Peter Alexander tomorrow at lunch, and see if they still have the last gray hat sitting on their shelf (please, please, please!)
*(I swear, there was one guy there who thought it was his lucky day – the worlds most conservatively dressed stripper was about to make her debut in his local pet-store! Only I stopped at thermal top number two, and jeans. His disappointment was palpable.)