Men of Men Multi-tasking

So, it is Sunday morning. I check out what’s happening through the window. Not a lot. Nothing really ever happens here beside the occasional jumpy thing paying a visit.

With a finger up one nostril and another digit scratching at my hole, I contemplated how to spend a couple of hours; preferably under those lovely vitamin D rays blasting down.

Having no balcony or garden, this is a bit of a dilemma. Me thinks (yes, I can), maybe I wander down to the canal embankment a bit whilst sipping at a chilled chibuli with some cool vibes stuck to my ears. Any other place to wander to would be tantamount to another three day bush patrol looking for anything remotely connected to civilisation.

With that decided I prepare myself for another thrilling adventure (not). With little rucksack packed with essentials (smokes and beer), I wasted a good 15 minutes looking for my trusty FN assault rifle until I remembered this is 2013 not  1977. I most definitely have to stop watching repeatedly that film ‘Inception’.

It is not that I am accident prone, it is more like I am prone to make the accidents, because what happens next yet again beggar belief. I am all tooled up ready to rock and roll and decide I should clean my teeth. Nothing out of the ordinary there, most of us do it. Even in the bush days we were taught about a special tree that you could use. Chewing on a tree was never my idea of fun but that is all beside the point.

So after that boring task and wasting time trying to work out how to turn the buzzing thing off (a new model), I conclude that a healthy mouth must be well swished with a good dollop of peppermint wash. The el-cheepo stuff from ALDI. Whilst having a merry swosh about, I noticed that my hair was looking very dry. It also had a very strange parting but gathered that had quite a lot to do with the fact I was wearing headphones.

Concentrating very carefully, I felt it a bit and not only does it look like bleached straw, it had the exact same brittle constituency. (I have a really bad feeling that this is not quite the word I was looking for, but you can blame that on my dyslexia)  I had purchased some wax for just such an occasion, so grabbed some and sort of rubbed it a bit around but meanwhile…

I had totally forgotten that I was also busy with another task – namely removing the last bits of last night’s roast duck dinner with red sauerkraut (that is not a pissed-off hybrid Native-American/German native) and those cylindrical mashed potato things and – swallowed the lot.

It was impossible to see what happened next because my eyes had turned into my head, but when they sort of righted, along with stomach cramps, was this awful mess dripping down the mirror onto the little shelf which holds men things (like tablets of Valium and Viagra – a great mixture as you spend hours going up and down).

And the SMELL. It was the devil’s breath after he has been sucking on a packet of Polos all week.. I ran out screaming like some blonde and dashed dizzily around, clutching at my delicate and convulsing stomach, looking for the bathroom to hide in. I then found the bathroom and again ran out screaming. The stuff was still there and was foaming a bit where it had just met the shaving cream tin.

All I wanted to do was to go for a bit of a walkabout – not land up a nervous wreck contemplating how I clean this lot up without retching constantly. Still, I learnt another valuable lesson. Stick to one job at a time otherwise all hell breaks loose. I did manage to go for a little walk, but returned early because I was feeling a little weak.

(And, no, this time there is no photo.)