There is getting fed up and then there is what I’m feeling now. It is being fed up to the point of nausea.
I have to interact with human beings every day and multiple times during the day. Painfully, they all behave like me – all have stupid opinions that they think will change the world, and converse only with the hidden agenda of getting other people to agree with them. I am marginally better because I don’t pinch people I disagree with. Actually, in real life, neither do they; but I imagine them to be juvenile enough to pinch one another so that I could be marginally better. Which I am not.
However, things are easier to bear because I have just discovered a most excellent coffee at Barista. It’s the new Tiramisu cappuccino – rather flavorful, and not quite as bitter or acidic. In fact, it has the ambrosial whiff of vanilla and a lovely macchiato color. It’s a friendly coffee. You can take a sip and expect the palate to strike up a pleasant conversation with the taste; instead of those bitter Italian concoctions that begin a Marxist debate as soon as you gulp a mouthful.
I usually bring a cup to office and enjoy it while reading the online version of Bridget Jones Diary. The ‘Ah’ moments last for some time before I’m called for a meeting.
Now, meetings are interesting events. I think more than Dilbert’s observations, its Garfield’s aphorisms that hold true. For example, ‘When in doubt, act stupid.’
‘We missed a delivery.’
‘Really? I thought we missed a deadline.’ (Internal guffawing)
‘Must life get so desultory?’ I ask myself. I get no response. Turns out even I’m fed up of myself. When did that happen? I thought we had a good thing going. Isn’t that always the case? The ‘Id’ is always the last to know.
That brings me to the absurdity of relationships. Or my relationship. The way I see it, if you love someone, then you think of your future with them. That means you ask difficult but important questions. So I, who am tulled with cauldron-full of insight, asked boyfriend about our future. Conversation went thus:
I: What will you do if I get possessed?
He: I don’t understand.
I: What will you do if we get married and all, and then one day I’m possessed by a ghost.
He: How would I know the difference? (Internal guffawing at his end.)
Well, it’s easy to sweep important issues under frayed, moth-eaten carpets now, but we’ll see what happens when my head spins like a top in halogen lighting and the exorcists are on strike. Let’s see what happens to the ‘until death do us part’ vow. It’ll get amended to ‘part until unrest in afterlife.’ (titters from that part of me that hadn’t responded earlier.)
Ah! Finally. I find myself interesting.