Let's get right into it, before my brain expands any more from the pent-up thoughts that have set up camp in my head the past week.
My three thinks for today are:
Tattoos - I'm a huge fan. I started off like everyone else, promising myself that I would only get one... Yeah right, what a joke. Once you start, there's no way you'll stop. The thing is, tattoos are no longer reserved for sailors, bikers and miners. The stigma around body art has completely turned around the last decade or so. It's accessible now - you can get one on your lunch-break at the nearest mall. My opinion is, just do it. I'm not saying you should impulsively tattoo a toiletpaper roll on your forehead at 02:00 in the morning when everything is funny, but if you've had the idea for a while and it's something you really want - do it. And yes, I've heard all the arguments: it will go blue when you're old (myth - the inks they use now hold their colour, as opposed to the inks of 30 years ago); it's permanent and what if you don't like it anymore in a few years (that's the difference between a good tattoo and a dumb tattoo - if it means something to you now, it still will in years to come); it won't suit you when you're older (well I don't plan on walking around with my lower back showing at the age of 75); it's hard to remove (why consider one if you're already planning on removing it); and the classic - it hurts (yes, but only for the hour or so that you are sitting for it). I would much rather get tattoos now, while I'm young and can enjoy them, then cover them up as I grow older, than grow old and regret that I never did it while I was young. And here's a cool thought, compliments of a full colour leaf-and-vine-covered friend of mine: it's strange to see an old person with a tattoo now, because it was not the norm in their day, but in 60 years' time, there'll be an entire generation of inked geriatrics! An awesome thought.
Moving house - I've done this A LOT. In my humble 24 years, I have moved house 22 times. And the habit is seemingly sticking. New places, new people, new sights and sounds... It's great and I know we'll keep doing it. The only problem is the process. Looking for a house is a stressful and tedious operation which entails owners who want to rip you off and you having to smile politely when viewing a dirty little hole in someone's backyard. When you find your little dream house, though, you're excited and brimming over with plans for the guest bedroom. Then comes the full realisation of how much crap you've accumulated when you have to start packing. Fights break out over old clothes and whether we really want to keep the yellowing computer screen that is never used. I nag my husband about his collection of rocks (I love them, but there's just too much) and get berated over the space my shoes are taking up (I keep all my shoes in their original boxes with labelling so I can stack them up in the back of my closet). After a week of debates and emotional goodbyes to old items, we finally get everything packed and ready to load.
Now this part holds an entire new set of challenges. Suddenly the massive trailer you booked has shrunk to a puny excuse and you have to make peace with the fact that you'll have to make two or three trips. The more stuff you load, the more stuff there is. The physical loading part also has its own dangers...
The last time we moved, my husband had to carry out an old TV set to the trailer. The cable and plug was trailing on the ground as he walked (see where I'm going with this?). Inevitably, he stepped on the upturned plug with his bare feet (ouch), which caused the cable to pull tight. Long story short, he nearly knocked his teeth out on the very TV he was carrying. I heard the clash and when I got outside, he was weaving across the driveway, still holding the set, with his eyes completely glazed over. Almost lost him there for a moment! Later that same day, he stepped on the heel of one of my shoes (woops), with his other foot. When he arrived at work on Monday, he had a swollen lip and he was limping around the office - without any manly excuses for his injuries!
In the end, though, I love moving around. I cannot imagine living in the same house, much less the same town for all my life. Just not me.
Cat fights - As I just mentioned, we moved recently, and for the first time in his little life, my cat had to learn to share a neighborhood with other felines. At first he was timid and wouldn't leave my side, completely unsure about his peers. Within the first week, though, he won a fight and suddenly his attitude changed. Now, you have to understand, my cat is not normal. He is a cross between a domestic and a wild African cat - he has stripes on his back and spots on the rest of his body and he is notably larger than other housecats. Apparently, he never knew about these advantages, until the other cats in the 'hood started running from him and hiding behind their owners whenever he strutted down the street. So he became a brawler. Night after night he went looking for trouble, stealing the others' food and chasing them down only to cream them under a bush. I tried to discipline him. I talked to him, trying to make him see sense. I warned him and had hubby have a sit-down with him, but to no avail. His ego became too big to fit through the front door, so he started to stay away from home. When he finally did appear, he would walk in with his feet casually dragging behind him, ears thrown back and eyes all squinty. All he needed was sunglasses and a leather jacket and we could have called him "Donny". Until last week.
We came home to find him curled up on the couch - which had become a strange occurrence. He sprang up and greeted us, all purs and smiles, talking loudly about how glad he was to see us. When he looked up, it all made sense. His face was covered in scratches and his ear was standing at an odd angle. His entire right side was full of scabs. He had met his match. I don't know which cat dented his ego, but I'm grateful. I no longer have to apologise to my neighbours and I'm not kept up at night by squeeling cats. The Furry One is his friendly self once more.
Before I end of for the day, I noticed that a big part of my audience is emerging from Turkey...Merhaba! Thanks for reading my blog! Feel free to comment and I'll get back to you.
Now, get that tattoo (the good one, not the dumb one), change your scenery regularly and don't be too hard on the men in your house (doesn't matter which species).
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