A Miraculously Fine Mood, The Odoriferous World, Here/There You/We Go, And A Pink Dream

The Fiery One went home early from work with the flu a couple of days ago and puked all over the floor of our apartment. Poor man. His fever was so high that his skin was pink from the heat. After hanging out with him for a while, I didn't feel too hot myself, but I did my best to baby him. I went out to the local store and bought him a Coke, some cold and sinus medication, vitamin B and C pills, and Alphaghettis. I bought myself a pair of socks. I know that there are foods bearing much greater health benefits that I could have fed him, but this was about babying, not mothering. Also, I have a thing for the Alphaghettis.
This all means that today, I don't feel so good. I came to work doped up on meds, because we are short half our staff at work, so I'm needed. My eyes are stinging and red, my vertebrae feel as though they are stacked and scraping together, my muscles are aching with the effort of standing upright, and there is a heat that I am beginning to feel emanating from within me. What's strange, though, is that I am in a fairly good mood despite the state of my health.
I shouldn't be in a good mood, especially here at work today. I have a co-worker who is incredibly talented in the art of passive-aggression, and yesterday she not-so-subtly suggested that I am not very good at my job, that I don't appreciate the training she gave me, and that I don't have the good sense to intuit what my position entails. Evil? I should say so. The truth of the matter is that she only had time to give me a cursory overview of my position as she was already transitioning into her new position at the time, so it is not her fault if there are some things that I didn't pick up on or that she didn't show me in the two days I had with her. Also, nobody here tells you how to do something until you've done it incorrectly and you get into trouble for it, so a few things have taken longer for me to pick up on. For these reasons, I will admit that I have not been a perfect employee, but I also have to add that I have not been given what I would have needed from the beginning to be one. I have, though, been a really good employee, and so veiled insults from a co-worker who is in no way a superior and with whom I do not work directly are completely inappropriate and unnecessary.
So, I am surprised that I am in such a decent mood what with my sickness and Passive-Aggressive Girl to contend with. I think I'm dealing with things so well because it's Friday, the PAG is going on maternity leave for a year before too long so who gives a fuck, I'm getting a haircut after work, and I'm almost done knitting a rockin' poncho partially designed by me, so I'm pretty cool anyway. I bet you had no idea how cool I was until the poncho thing came along. Honestly, my cool factor has gone way up.

Since I just can't quit with the lists, here is a new one for you. Smells I have been able to experience since quitting smoking (oh, the bliss):

  • When I was walking to the grocery store, I could smell the cooking fumes escaping from a vent outside a Vietnamese restaurant. A few feet further down the sidewalk, the scent of freshly brewing coffee wafted out the door of a coffee shop, and the two smells mingled together in such a way that I could smell both and distinguish between them individually simultaneously.
  • I had no idea how many people wore perfume or used hygiene products that were strongly scented. How do those girls who smell all sweetly light and airy like they just came out of the drier do it?
  • My feet actually smell worse than I ever thought they did. My apologies to the Fiery One.
  • I have always loved the smell of books old and new, but I did not know how many books' smells were travelling beneath my scent radar. I have missed so much in the way of damp paper, yellowed paper, binding glue, fresh ink, and book dust.
  • The Icelandic wool that I am using to knit my poncho has a semi-sweet earthy scent to it when I bury my nose in it and breath in really deeply.
  • I used to think that the chemical smell of the water in this city was fairly strong, but I smelled a glass of tap water the other day, and it could easily have been mistaken for bleach.
  • When I went out in search of bunny food yesterday, the air carried the scent of ketchuppy barbecues. It's not that I haven't smelled a barbecue in years or anything, but it has been a long time since I have been able to suss out that gently wafting odour on a breeze blocks (my spellchecker just tried to correct that as "breezeblocks") away from any back yards.
  • I can tell which apartments contain smokers, because the hallway smells musty-sour outside their apartment doors. It makes me glad that I never smoked in our apartment as a rule, because otherwise I would find our place atrociously stinky right now.

    I was just helping a foreign student from South America, and when I handed her her textbooks, I said "there we go". I never think about it when I say phrases like that. Technically, it's meaningless within the context of the interaction. The student asked me if "there you/we go" meant the same thing as "here you/we go". They don't really mean the same thing, and it was interesting trying to explain the difference. I decided to describe a scenario, but I'm not sure if I got it right or not. I said that if we were at a restaurant together, and we were being served our food, she might say "here we go". Of course, now I am thinking of all kinds of situations and exceptions, and I just may have sent a Spanish student out into the world completely misusing "here we go". (Also, "here there you we go" is an addictive thing to repeat in a whispery voice, but don't let your co-workers hear you).

    I have been having the fluffiest dreams over the last few nights. The other night, I dreamt that I was re-decorating our bathroom. The theme was bright pink. I had a matching set of hot pink toilet lid cover, area rug, and bath mat. I put out a crocheted pink barbie toilet roll cover. I even dyed the towels pink. The project that was taking up most of my dream was a fake aquarium. It was to sit on the back of the toilet. There was turquoise aquarium gravel in the bottom and plastic green plants. I was busy trying to fashion tropical pink fish out of those puffy crafting pipe cleaners, which I would mount on a little wire anchored to the bottom of the aquarium to give the effect that they were swimming in water. The end product was horrendously tacky, but I was terribly proud of my bathroom decorating creativity.

    According to the United Nations, there are 1.5 million people in China that have HIV/AIDS, and that the number with HIV will grow to 10 - 20 million by 2010, but the country has only 150 doctors that are qualified to diagnose and treat AIDS patients.

    Russian president Vladimir Putin is a babe magnet.

    Tage Frid, a woodworker and Danish modern designer, is dead at the age of 88.

    A mythical monster has been placed on Sweden’s endangered species list.

    Quebec seems to believe that its population is too witless to tell the difference between butter and margarine.

    A German teenager has been arrested for creating the Sasser worm.

    As a promotion for her latest album, Courtney Love officiated at twenty wedding ceremonies.

    The former Israeli energy minister, Gonen Segev, has been indicted on charges of smuggling and possession of the drug ecstasy.

    An explosion has killed the president of Chechnya.

    The abuse happening in prisons in Iraq is not shocking, especially when this sort of abuse is regularly practiced on U.S. soil.

    Five Bulgarian nurses and a Palestinian doctor have been convicted by a Libyan court of infecting hundreds of children with HIV in order to conduct scientific research into the disease.