What's Been Happening?
I clean the bathroom irregularly. Afterwards, every single time, I scare the bejesus out of myself when I see my reflection in the mirror when I turn the light on to pee.
Earlier this week I was leaving a crowded train at North Sydney and in the exertion of lifting my backpack onto my shoulders I accidentally farted. Loudly. I had to stand for over a minute, waiting for the doors to open and pretending I hadn't just dropped a bomb on a crowd of people. I struggled to resist the urge to laugh. As I walked away from the station and reflected on getting away with my incidental deviance a smoker blew a lungful of second-hand smoke into my face and I felt like justice had just been served.
Two days ago I wrote myself a note that simply said "mirror fart skyscraper" and I cannot for the life of me remember what skyscraper was supposed to remind me of.
All of that plus moving, job changes, biomechanics, unpublished writing and selling stuff on gumtree.
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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.