BluE Scrubs

Buzz buzz at too early in the morning. But i got up anyway. Mr Postman said "I have a parcel for you darling".

I buzzed him in. At the door I heard his steps drawing nearer. "You are not 27 are you". No I am not. "You didn't let me in just did you", he shook his head so I I said no, eventhough I did. He continued up the stairs. I was still standing there.

Why did I say no and let him walk away with no guilt for dragging me out of my bed? Why why? I want to kick him and leave my Marriot slippers up his bum.
I want a parcel. I want I want. I don't care what's in it. Because I got out of my damn bed put on my damn slippers and opened the damn door. And I want to shoot those people making such nice songs about postmen. They are mean.

My period is due.

Some people lie to themselves. They just don't like facing to the fact that the very person they like is just not into them. Who likes not being liked. It hurts. I agree, but could we actually try and understand why some people are not attracted to some others. Even better could we actually globally accept a reason for not being with somebody as simply as I am just not into you. Without being stoned to death or being called a bitch.

When I got on to my phone messages after the urology list , one made me felt cut. Mr Black actually agreed that I promised to speak to him at 8 tonight. But me, I remembered but my sense were blunted. I liked the idea but I don't thrive on the actual act of being on the phone finding out more about another man. I don't have that curteousy to be by the phone dressed in a eager beaver suit. And I am actually worried.

Does it take more than diamonds to woo? Is it the moon his competition? Are flowers an insult because they represent the desire to fertilize a woman. I mean why are flowers so beautiful but last only enough time for the bees to use and abuse?

This is not the first time. Mr Black punch line was Hi, it's me again and yes I like it better if I could actually speak to you. However, if this is a warning of a more interaction with your answerphone than yourself, then you don't secure me any confidence. I am pissed off. Ouch! I think he meant what he said, and I think I am not quite in the wrong. I say that because all that pallaver was only after one dinner and a river cruise.

But then, it's happened before and it's to the best man with an arm length tick boxes. Now this is worrying. I think I have passed that I wanna phase. I am entering I don't wanna phase. Maybe I have my radar turned 180 degrees. Because the other day i found perky boobs are a turned on.

But there is hope. On maternity 2 days ago, my bleep went off. The hospital reception was in need of me. For what I thought. I had a delivery. From interflora. A grand orchestra of sunflowers, yellow roses, lucky bamboos, fronds of greens fringed the bouquet. It was gorgeous and I wanted it to be from him. He who put together my IKEA aneboda flat pack bed. He who loves babies so much he took up a career stabbing needles in their feet and put the blood in a little straw. Weirdo breed of doctors, I know.


Later that day i texted him, They are gorgeous thank you.

Very soon he replied, What flowers?

It was a shot in the dark. All the way from LA.

Ok i am not amused. What's going on.

Well, I now am a mortgage payer.

I did imagine that one point a very handsome wealthy man will sweep me off my feet and only too happy to jet me here and there. Forbidden me from ever to play with those nasty needles and gas again which changes my personality anyway, and only let me mingle with people who smell like cupcakes. So I would completely object at first but then agree with him only because I only want him to be happy.

But that seems more impossible than me crawling back into my mum’s uterus at the moment.

But then, a girl has to have a roof over her head so here we are.

This place I have is a two bedroom house and I have to drill the wall. It’s a new house and I have to drill the wall. If I make a mistake there will be a hole in the wall and as much as I like fixing things and people, I don’t think I like the thought of patching a hole in a wall. A hole in a wall of a new house. If I screwed up I have a hole in my new wall. Shit.

I have finished hernia list this afternoon and I am in no rush to go home. The state of the house is excruciatingly eye jabbing. If people don’t know the story they probably thought my house has been broken into. So I need storage, plenty of them, organizing, shelving, boxing, hiding, stacking. Anything, so this place look neat asap. Still, the wall, needs to be drilled. How come the word IKEA suddenly flashed there for a millisecond?

I went online, (still online) and looked for ‘how to drill different types of walls’(still looking). You think it’s easy to drill? I think you think it is. What’s the big deal? There’s the drill, there’s the wall. Go drill. No. it’s not that easy. Ladies, if you are putting up anything on the wall go mad on doing it right. Messing up a wall is not ladylike.

I suppose, am making such a fuss because I like doing it right the first time. It’s so easy if that happens, but you know that it’s not like that with life. I guess you can’t always get the perfections that you hope for.

Sometimes, he can cook, clean, ring you daily, blue when he misses you, mad when somebody pisses you. But in the morning, when you’re half awake and half aphasic and you go ‘honey, pukul berapa?’ and he goes, ‘english please baby, speak english’, then you know you still have an imperfections issue you still have to face up to.

On hanging stuff, I found here.

Happy hanging, and have a good weekend.