Sick in the Sink

I am a bit odd.

That's what people tell me, anyway. I don't really like people sitting on my bed and I certainly don't like people resting their head on my pillow. I have no idea why this is a daunting situation for me, but it is. Something about it makes me squirm. I am fastidious about keeping my hands clean as well. Generally I wash them several times during my bed time routine.

I am also someone who despises vomit. I don't think this is that odd, to be honest. It strikes me as pretty normal.

Last night I was going to the toilet to clean my teeth (in the left of the two sinks randomly in the toilet where I live) when I noticed a funny, eggy smell in the air. This created a feeling of queasiness in my stomach. Upon arrival at the toilet, to my surprise, someone was there. It was one of the girls who had left the door open. I asked if she was all right, but got no response other than a door closing slowly in my face. I waited.

A few minutes later she emerged, and I stepped into the toilet to use it. I was greeted by the most unpleasant of sights. As you will know plugs are used in sinks when we want to keep water in the sink for things like shaving or hair washing. I have never before seen a plug used to keep sick in the sink. Until yesterday. A thin, yellow liquid dappled with colours once vibrant, but now victims of stomach acid. Lovely.

No doubt you will understand this did nothing for me but intensify feelings of queasiness, and you will realise why I left the toilet quite so rapidly.

Fortunately, I did not have to brave the sick again. I was a valiant coward and asked the mother of the house to sort out the situation. What a blessed relief she did, otherwise I might still be cleaning my hands!

Love Wins

Greatness aspires to humility

In the eyes of the wise,

Yet foolishly we seek not to love, but to be loved.

Our yearning, power hungry minds cannot capture that the meek will inherit the earth.

So we stride ahead, rather than hobbling with the broken,

Ever demanding, ever wanting, never satisfied.

Confusion follows as we look behind, and see those at the back of the line,

Laughing, dirty but smiling.

Envious we frown our disapproval. Happiness is not allowed without power, without possessions, without promotion!

Understanding how the weak could ever be made strong, pah! Ridiculous.

The cycle goes on, always seeking riches, never realising we have them in our hearts.

Perhaps one day we’ll realise, perhaps one day we’ll see, perhaps one day we’ll get it.

Love wins.

Folly 3ww

It cannot be helped; this folly. Folly is sometimes called wisdom; the wisdom of the idiots! Now, there's a thought. I wonder what constitutes an 'idiot' nowadays. Once upon a time it had clearly defined boundaries. But to be an imbecile was worse. I used to pronounce that 'im - beck - ile' - just shows what I know! I digress.

No, when I consider myself wise, then I know I will be a fool. That is how I shall approach tis life. Then perhaps I will blunder a bit less! Now, as I squeeze the last word in, please do not cringe at the obviousness of its placement. Much obliged.