I don't need fortune cookies to sum up my life to be. Or horoscopes. As for soothsayers - consigned to history.
These days, if I want pithy comments about the now and future me, I just consult my latest batch of e-mails.
As I will myself to open the latest demands from fuel companies, the council and the bank, a new message flashes up. 'Buried in paper and clerks?' asks Pocket Lovelace.
Spot on, Pocket, at least as far as the paper's concerned. And I can think of several people (notably Bad Lindy, assuming you count her twice, which most people automatically do, so stunned are they to find such an overwhelming personality contained in just the one body) who would be more than thrilled to find themselves up to their chests in clerks. Or higher-ranking administrative staff, come to that.
I check my inbox a few hours later for the solution to my next pressing problem. Some of my clothes are so old that they merit conservation status and I have to seek permission from the Heritage people before replacing the buttons. But can I really justify increased bank rage by replacing them?
Lacy Villareal is in no doubt. 'Ungodly cleavage' is her brusque analysis. I check in the mirror. She's completely right. I head for the shops.
Later on, after a bad-tempered evening where I manage to shout at everyone, including the dog, I log in for a final word from the experts.
It's Lacy again. "Sullen and sad with crumbling battlements," she says. I've been described in various ways over the years, but there's no getting away from it. Lacy has got me absolutely to a T.
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12 comments:
You get far more interesting emails than me. For some reason they think I'm a man and I get no end of emails about a disfunction I will never ever suffer from...I think!
Hi, from another crumbling edifice to another.
Hi, back, mid-lifer - and thanks for the visit.
All I get is spam in Hebrew (at least I think it's Hebrew).
No, no, I disagree re crumbling! Lacy needs a good slapping. Who does she think she is? Posh-Trinny-and-wotshername?
Orchidea: Thanks for your morale-boosting comment. Well, maybe not crumbling. But we're certainly talking sagging. Put it this way, if I were a building, they'd probably opt for demolition. Or large steel supports.
I would appear to no longer be getting spam mail in my new job. They used to make life so interesting. I'm sure you are nowhere near being a crumbling building. Lacey needs a good slap.
Gwen: I feel for you in your spam drought. Would you like some of mine to brighten up your life? Started your new job already? That was quick.
I agree: live Lacey a good slapping.
In the words of the BB slapper from last year: "Who is she?"
OK, M&M. Consider slap briskly administered.
Speaking as a man ( and I have my wife's permission to say that ) is there such a thing as ungodly cleavage ???? Unless of course you are telling the truth and you really are a crumbly sagging mess. LOL
Kev
Kev: I just don't know. But I'll get a bit of feedback and report back.
I, too, wish I had more interesting spam-mail like yours; is male erectile dysfunction such an international problem that remedies need to be scattered far and wide? And offered to those who didn't seek a solution in the first place?
Oh and I appear to be giving off vibes which the purchase of heavy plant and machinery might solve...
Great blog, omega mum!
Debio: Glad you're back. I quite enjoy getting spam but rarely read beyond the headlines. God knows what they're trying to sell.
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