Or should that be the milk of fake human kindness, or milk of human fake kindness. Why, one couldn't go on and on forever couldn't I? Fortunately, one shan't.
For the rest of my life, the smell of dairy creamer (you know the fake stuff, most commonly packaged as carnation's coffee mate) stirred into a plastic cup of instant coffee made with barely hot water will forever bring to mind the inside of plane. I have lost count of the number of such cups of hot fake-creamy kind of coffee that I've had on a plane.They always taste just right though. After all, even when the airlines try to make you coffee fresh, as in the fresh long black I had once while travelling (as the shark puts it) "in the pod" (the shark means, up in the front of the cabin where you get your own space - she of course refers to International Long-haul flights, not the little North American flights where you definitely don't get a pod, no matter how far up front you are), they just don't taste like what coffee on the ground should taste like - especially when the beans are fresh-roasted, weighed out, ground immediately and water passed through them.
Never mind, I have a whole bunch of little red packets of 2-in-1 coffee to get through in the next little while. A present from Aunt #1 who always presses huge packets of coffee on me when I go home. She knows I like my coffee - and she also remembers that I once bought her a cappuccino which pleased her (and me) greatly. This year, she wanted to give me several different kinds of coffee, but I only took one kind - the sugarless kind for I rather fear that sugar is no friend of mine anymore. The contents of these little red packets are exactly like the cups of coffee on planes, and I mean exactly even if you use piping hot water and ceramic mugs. How nice. A memory contained in a little red packet - like the memories of the other red packets we used to get, and then of course the memories associated with these red packets. So poignant and melancholy in their own way. In any case, I'm always going to drink these, and other types of powdered instant coffee (and there are many) to uphold the memories that make me a better person, or if not exactly a better person, a person who aspires to be better. So there you go - the more I drink, the more I shall aspire to be a better person.
I've been told that I have a tropical tummy by which they don't mean tanned, they mean plump. Under normal circumstances, I would say, "how mean", but unfortunately this time, it's the truth. It's a tummy that grew when nurtured with warm weather, food high in oils, coconut milk, sugar and the worst possible fats. That and a lack of exercise except to flop around from side to side in a desperate attempt to escape mosquitoes was what done me in. And under the harsh light of change room, it was pointed out that I cast a shadow, that I had a tummy, and even though tanned or not, it made no difference. Hence no more sugar for me. Not an iota - at least for the next few minutes because I think there's a kit-kat lurking in the fridge and what could taste better with a hot cuppa, but a kit-kat. The case of the tropical tum worries me, and I shall have to do something about this. Not that I particularly want to, but I can't bear being told I have tropical tum. Actually, I have a lot to do this next few months, so what does it matter really? I'll just roll (why do I think of a jam-roll now) everything that I have to do into one big action item and call it "LIVE".
There, that should do it.
Seriously though, I have much to do if I'm to reclaim my life pre-July. There's a bunch of decluttering to be done - especially true if I'm to let go of my locker downstairs. Things have to be removed from the shoebox and repacked to take advantage of the space that I have. Photos must be hung up, food (and there's much of it around in cans, in the freezer, in bottles, in boxes - why I just found over 200 teabags in two plastic containers) to be ate up. There're clothes to be sorted through and donated. There are shoes to be tossed. Goodness. I'm becoming quite disoriented just thinking about what needs to be done which means that
a list is forthcoming I have some aspirations to live up to, and some of them are:
|It's not just the machine, but the quality of the water|
and pressure, and beans, and heat, and twist of
the wrist. Apparently.
|Memories come in more than red packets;|
they also come in red rosettes and ribbons
|Could tropical tum be due to the creamer (even if non-dairy?)|
rather than sugar?!
There, that should do it.
|Less blur, more clarity would be nice|
- Spend less (so I can get a Dyson Hot Tower)
- Finish the food in the house (but not to the extent that I add fall tummy to the tropical one)
- Declutter (so that the locker can be cleared out)
- Cancel 2 credit cards (for these two do not please me at all)
- Scheme to get a Dyson Hot Tower (yes, you can tell the fall is coming)
- Put the barbeque to sleep (or at least cover it up so it doesn't get wet)
- Clear head by coming up with a dense and incomprehensible paragraph (just one) on harapans.
- Get back to running properly again (no more aborting on runs half-way through)
- Sort through photos (one of today's jobs)
I'm sure there're more but this is plenty to get started on.