Wednesday, 22 May 2013

lather me up

I am slowly, inexorably, being sucked under by a rip tide of paper waves.  The filing crests over me, the electronic print outs dwelling in the undertow drag me down. 

The waste of paper in my day to day existence makes me feel ill.  Aside from work, I don't think I chew too many trees, aside from the veritable mountain of crap that filters through the post box each day.  We live in a complex that junk-mail posters find difficult to access, so the pizza leaflets have slowed, but the furrows in my brow deepen every time I open the box to see yet another statement from the bank (but you didn't tell us you wanted e-statements on your credit card, they say.  Can't you take it as read, given I've asked for no paper for every other account?)  My furrows do not need another reason to deepen.

As it turns out, that's about all I can muster up on the topic of paper wastage this evening.  I just can't take it to the next tortured metaphor today.  S'really unusual when I can't lather myself into a good rant/whinge (though frankly, someone else can probably do a paper wastage blog better, you know, with stats and sources and stuff).  On the scale of Gives A Shit, you can locate me somewhere closer to Marginal Apathy than Mildly Outraged, I guess (feel free to illustrate the rest of that scale yourself, I've just enjoyed a satisfying five minutes marking intervals such as "Utter Panic", which comes slightly to the left of "All Consuming Rage" but well to the right of "I'm Not Sure What You're On About But I'll Feign Interest").

Indicative of a lapse into that whole seasonal affective situation?  A lack of daylight hours does allow me to indulge in a spot of melancholy, but it's not too bad as yet (in case you were wondering).  I get outside during sunlight hours enough in Aucks enough to counteract that, c.f. London, where an ever-darkening grey haze at 3.30pm used to turn me braindead. 

Nope, just general moping, I suppose.  Te karere, I hear you ask?  Um, well, the news is that there is no news.  I am busy in the practice of existing day to day and wondering what I'll eat for dinner tonight. 

WAIT. STOP PRESS.  I DISCOVERED MOULD IN MY VEGEMITE THIS MORNING.  That, right there, is some momentous shit that I can get righteously angry about (sorry world+our environment, today's just a selfish kind of a day, I guess.) WHICH OF YOU MUPPETS DIDN'T SCREW THE LID ON PROPERLY?? (I'm looking at you, P). That could have legitimately ruined my Vogels, lovingly toasted to medium brown. 

I think I'll give it up there.


  1. haha, love the scale! I am (you've probably noticed this already) hanging out on the right side of the scale fairly often. To stop myself going a little crazy as a result, I find that two things offer cures for melancholia - 1. impromptu dance parties in the lounge and 2. watching the movie Easy A (Clueless and Mean Girls will also do the trick).

  2. CLUELESS. I CANNOT BELIEVE I LEFT CLUELESS OFF MY MOVIE LIST the other day! THANK YOU. + 10 Things I Hate About You - knock off Shakespeare teen flicks, LOVE.

    (see also: sleepless in seattle + you've got mail for melancholia cures.)

    You're defo on the right side of 'gives a shit' - pun intended ;)

    1. YES! 80s + 90s Meg Ryan RULES.


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