Baby powder

No, not powdered babies - powdered aphids, now you're talking - but powder for babies. You know, the white floury substance you shake over a freshly washed and dried baby to keep them dry and happy.

Why, I don't know, but baby powder has a fragrance that seems to be used by pretty much all companies that make it. Who knows why - I don't think it's a result of the process as I've see the smell added to things like baby oil. Anyway, the smell of baby powder is fine on a baby. On an adult? Not so much.

Yes - another assault on my olfactory senses this morning when I was washing my cup ready to fuel my need (and waste time). There was no baby in site, the person in question wasn't gestating, nor had the person been involved with the end result of gestation for a while. And yet, a strong smell of baby powder hung around us, only to disappear when said person left. Ergo. The smell and person were one and the same, and since the person was not a baby, please leave now.

Then I pour hot water over my coffee powder and I smelt ozone. That's not good.

Lot's is not good today in Salem. The witch hunters are out with their pitchforks and flaming torches - why, I'm not sure as it's a sunny day out. They don't need the torches for light...oh wait, maybe that explains the smell of ozone.

Zombies were present in full force yesterday. That's all I can say at present. It's sad to see so many, what's even sadder is that said zombies don't realise they're zombies. My heart goes out to them, really, it does. Pwore things - see? I'm regaining my empathy again. It's been sorely tested of late, and the supplies were depleted - fortunately when you practice the first agreement, you rejuvenate the empathy organ and you can encourage a few more drops out. I shall practice a bit more empathy in a few minutes to add to the best wishing by best buying (no, not at best buy - horrible store).

I shall write an ad for a helper today. Kill me if I don't. I shall also read something - but not the white book what Dr. J gave me because I read one paragraph and it was dire. Can't deal with that now. Perhaps it's the happy who can read unhappy books, but the unhappy must read happy books, or watch movies with animated singing and dancing penguins. Something like that. I'm sure it all makes sense, and Fay would more than agree. After all, she did say that one of the best defenses against going crazy with your thoughts is to forget.

Perhaps happy dancing penguins can be substituted with zombies who can only eat brains on instant noodles by dousing the whole thing with Sirracha hot sauce. Then again, perhaps not.




"what you're feeling is premature enlightenment"

http://theoatmeal.com/comics/sriracha


Oh me, oh my. What to do, what to do. Look, there's really  nothing that you can do. All you'z can do is to live your life and be done with it. It's not like it really matters in the end - Leave the world a better place, leave the world a worse place. It's an arrogant conceit to think that as a human being you can do anything to change the world. The world will survive humans. Humans are not the earth nor the world. We are but one part of it.

Oh perhaps I need to squeeze a bit more empathy out. That or have some sugar. It must be the lack of sugar that's doing it. Must. Think. Matthew Lewis.