Mutterings*

I met a lady who has a snow globe collection and I marveled how pretty and colourful they are. Such a sight of pleasantness that brings a smile.  With just a touch of wistfulness... Who would've ever thought snow globes would make me sad. The thought itself makes me even sadder. Is it the memories? Of innocence lost? I wonder.. I remind myself snow globes were more to me before everything and should remain whatever they were,  after too. My happy place of sparkling snow flakes and little people in magical worlds. Colourful memories. What ever they meant once,  still mean to me. And if I must share them with some unpleasant memories,  so be it. Bitter sweet is still sweet.

I stare deeply in to the premonition like reflection in my Thursday morning coffee/chocolate mocha and pretend it is really tea. I am aware, almost guiltily how impatiently I anticipate Fridays. Too eager to welcome the weekend. Probably why I am always disappointed when the weekend ends, and it was full of chores and empty nothingness. Oh well, need to have a talk with myself about low expectations.  Sri Lanka is winning the match - lots of rathinchchnya tonight. Coffee creamer,  between you and me tastes like crap. Nothing like some good old kiri piti. Maybe it's healthier. Who knows, inevitable old age and time will eventually be the judge. I hope either way,  70 year old me doesn't feel too bad when I'm taking all those pills. My black and white stray cat is happily feeding away. He seems to enjoy tuna the most. I call him he but he could very well be a she for all I care. Maybe I should call him/her IT instead. A smart one, that. I forget what this

The Mister has been sick.  It started with a text message lamenting the fact he was slowly dying. Then as the day increased his lamentations of impending doom grew and I ended up going home early just to spend a few hours more attending to him. It is curious how the common cold affects us all in different ways. Dare I say,  it is a well known fact the common cold affects each particular gender even differently. Our male counterparts feel the wrath of the angry cold,  debilitating any normal functions and leaving them helpless and almost childlike. However the female individual,  struck by the same bug will be able to withstand the worst and continue along their daily routine simply because if they do not cook,  no one will. I had firmly resolved to ensure this phenomenon truly ended with the generation of our parents. And yet,  I find my stone cold heat melting at the sight of the individual with a fever pitifully lying on the bed after requesting very spicy chips (claimin