…The Musings of a Strange Guy


There is a hole in the pocket of my jacket. It’s not visible to anyone except me. And it annoys me. I am mad. I can’t bear to see it. I am mending it right now. Fortunately, I have enough thread to do so.
Have to buy some more thread. ‘Always be prepared’ is my motto.

Just ironed some clothes because crumpled clothes are not my idea of a fashion statement…

Am not going to wear my contacts today to go out; will go out with my glasses because I have a class this afternoon. I usually wear my glasses in class as well as at home. I’m now used to manipulating the contacts but when I’m very tired and feel sleepy (wherever) it does make me feel frustrated sometimes.

Our kitchen is a strange place. Everyone of us who enters this domain feels obliged to comment to himself. My room is the one farthest from the kitchen, since I’m near the door (but not the doorkeeper, as I keep insisting to the other flatmates: I do not feel obliged to run and open the main door each time the bell rings!) but I can clearly hear someone talking to himself (he’s alone) in the kitchen. He’s using the microwave oven and talking to himself. Hmmm…

Even I do this, if only to express my disgust at the place itself…Why do we do this? What is it about that (somewhat) empty space that prompts us to open our oral orifice? đŸ˜›

Such is today’s question…



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