Evidence of Stress

Hi Blogsville! Howz the week been? Mine was quite eventful, yup, eventful. Let's see: i went to work, then ummm, i went to work some more, and then i went to . . . . work again! Ok, i'm not so good at being sarcastic so i better can it. At least i'm at home today - told my supervisor i had anus-ache (i've complained of all the other aches before - head, stomach, shoulder, waist, feet, eyes, nose, mouth, you name it). Of course there's still one more ache to complain of (teeheehee!); the day i complain of that one, they'll give me 3 months leave with double pay!!

See, there's this thing i always come across in novels, mostly ones with a bit of romance (i don't read plain romance; too simple and unrealistic for me); its about this thing were a guy sees a girl (or vice versa) and he/she somehow forgets what he/she was doing or talking about. I never really agreed with it - at least, not with the way it's usually descibed. Well, it happened to me this morning - i couldn't believe it!

I was out to buy bread for me humble breakfast. Now, there's this place i always buy from, i'm used the little scamp of a kid whose always selling. But this morning there was another chic as well. I actually thought she was buying something - like me - but then she asked what i wanted. I don't know how to explain this, cos i have absolutely no intention of "chyking" her (una know wetin be chyking, abi?), but I was quite intrigued by her brisk efficiency (frankly, that other kid was the personification of sluggish). Ok, so i tell her what i want, and she gets the loaf of bread, packages it in a black polythene and places it in front of me. Meanwhile, my mind is somewhere else wondering if she's related to the owner of the shop, maybe the younger sister or eldest daughter, but she ain't so pretty, well her smartness more than compensates for that, plus she wouldn't be so bad if she smiled more - and for that matter why isn't she smiling? Mmmh, well, guess she's the serious type, way too serious if you ask me ....

I suddenly realize that i'm the only customer left, and the girl is now giving me odd looks. I smile at myself, pay and go away. Now, what da hell was i thinking going off on that crazy mental tangent?

Maybe its stress shaa. I'll probably complain of that critical ache next monday after all.

Arrogant Little Puppy

Maybe it's writer's block, i don't know but i've been meaning to put up something for ages now. Each time i start out, i take this long look at my barren blogpage, and then i go: "Aww meehn, i'll do it later." Well, right now, i'm stuck in the hospital - bad case of malaria - with nothing better to do. So, i'm finally doing it; problem is, it doesn't have much substance.

I think i hate hospitals. I know i never really liked them, but right now i think my dislike has gone up an extra notch. But what i hate most is being ill - being weak and frail and having to bear all those pitying looks from people - like yesterday when i was puking like . . . like, well, i don't know. See, please don't misunderstand me, i know those looks are outward evidence of the compassion that they feel for me... but still, i really detest those looks; it makes me feel like a rain-beaten puppy. Sounds arrogant, yes, but i really don't appreciate feeling like a rain-beaten puppy.

Anyway, the good news is i'll probably be discharged today - right after i collect the blood-test results from whoever it is that is handling it. I was pretty winded when they collected the blood sample yesterday, but i distinctly remember telling the male nurse that i'd like to see the results as soon as possible. Since then, each time i inquire about it, i get something in the line of "oh, that test! Ok, i'll get it as soon as it's out", or "relax, get well first..." and so on. Well, i intend to get that result before i leave. Maybe they're hiding something, a HIV+ result perhaps....

I'm ok now shaa, but i have a bone to pick with my friend M; called him and asked if he could help get me a change of clothes from my house, and this scalawag of a dude said he was in church and can't help. Church my hairy behind!! Your friend is in the hospital, and your excuse for not helping is that you are in church? What do you think God will say when he sees you, pat you on the back and give you a villa in Paradise? God damn.

That's about it, blogsville. Now lemme go and see about that blood-test....