Monday, January 24, 2011

Unseasonal attire

As I walked up the stairs out of Causeway Bay MTR today, I found myself behind an old man, stooped down over his cane as he inched his way up the steps, the crowd streaming past him. On his head was a Santa hat, rather grimy and worn. I wondered if that counted as seasonally inappropriate, or just a sign that not everyone can afford to purchase headgear that exactly matches the season.

Perhaps there is some grand metaphor here, about embracing obliviousness to fashion, or how at a certain point in life the warmth of your headgear is more important than its appearance, or just the freedom gained once you realise a red hat with a white bobble on it is just a red hat with a bobble on it. I couldn't see it myself, so I dropped off a pair of jeans at the tailor, and wandered home to eat soup and bemoan my continuing rebellious belly.

My body hasn't forgiven me for the egg-related suffering we went through at the weekend. My stomach feels sore, as though somebody has beaten me up, and my back has been going into spasms all afternoon, perhaps a consequence of being hunched over from my stomach pains. I'd go see a chiropractor, but what use are dinosaurs to me in this state?

The cat, sensing weakness/a warm body/a locus of attention has come and sat on me, which is pleasant when it's my lap, less so when I'm sprawled face up on the bed, trying to rest my back and instead having a cat on my chest, purring like mad and licking my face. The irony is that some people would probably pay for this sort of treatment. It makes me sick.

Well, no, I suppose undercooked eggs make me sick.

I read about salmonella on Wikipedia today to cheer myself up, and since the symptoms are different, I assume I'm not going to die from salmonella. I rather hope I don't die of something else egg-related, or at least not yet. I've got rather a busy week planned (comedy on Thursday and Saturday, rehearsing around that) and being dead would be a real nuisance.

Still, I have a book to read to cheer myself up. Unfortunately, it's a book about North Korea, so the jokes are few and far between. At least it takes my mind off my own sorry state and allows me to realise how fortunate I am.


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