Daylight Suckings

I was walking the dog last week in the NBA Finals Commercial Break length period of daylight that exists between getting home from work and sunset.

“It’s okay,” I told Nash as she trotted carelessly over perpetually moist grass. “It’s only three weeks ‘til solstice, then it will be getting lighter every day.”

My brain crunched the information, cross-referenced my vague understanding of the solar system and reported back that this meant another six weeks until there we were back up to the same amount of daylight as we had today.

Welcome to a period of the year I like to call the, “Why didn’t I book a northern hemisphere holiday damn it?” period. AKA the opposite of daylight savings, Daylight Suckings. In mid January you can sometimes fit so many activities during the evening that it almost feels like you didn’t even go to work since the last time you slept. During Daylight Suckings you get out of bed on a Saturday and realise half the morning is gone and it’s almost lunchtime.

At least the leaves are pretty colours.

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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.

The Wurst Of Times

This time last year I was flying out of Adelaide on my way to Munich.
There's no international travel this winter, but on this same grey date I did visit a South Australian Aldi for the first time.

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Hot Selfies

Today Snapchat gave some perhaps unintended insight into how global warming features in the minds of the smartphone generations.

image 1639 from

Snout Cream

Two mornings ago the cold air made my nose bleed for the tenth time this winter, this time right as I boarded an express train to the city. I decided that as soon as I was no longer hiding in the nook of the carriage and I’d reached my desk that I was going to see a doctor about the blood noses.

I visited that doctor today, and instead of cauterising the weak spot he decided to first treat it with some antibacterial ointment. This wasn’t going to help me with descriptions for my upcoming post-apocalyptic climate change and cannibalism story, but I guess it was an easy option to try for a week before returning for the fire.

I took my prescription to the pharmacy where the kind pharmacist retrieved the ointment. Then she demonstrated admirably the exact process of peeling down an eyelid and exposing the creamy sclera, before mock rubbing the inside of the lid, and smooshing the imaginary cream over her eyeballs. She blinked dramatically to conclude the application, then she mentioned not to drive for at least thirty minutes afterwards.

I hadn’t heard about the prescription also functioning as an eye cream, and because I initially had to process why I was being shown eye steps, I didn’t have a chance to interrupt this performance before I’d seen the underside of her eyelid and into her soul. I knew then, there was no way to address the fact that she’d exposed herself for nothing, and that I was only going to be sticking the tube up my nose. I muttered, ‘thanks’, and took the box to the checkout.

Sometimes these things happen in life, someone over-shares based on a false assumption and you have no choice but to carry on with this new, undesired information through to the conclusion. Because to admit that they’ve over shared for no reason would only add to the awkwardness.

Then I wondered, maybe Dogs can understand English...