|Space timelapse Credit NASA
Interesting day today.
As I drove to Karrinyup, I was stopped at the lights behind one of these:
|Mercedes SL350 Coupe
That’s the rear view I saw. It oozes power and money. It’s much bigger than your piddly little CLKs.
On the seat beside me, I had two letters I’d just received: one from Kidney Health and the other from World Vision.
I was sorely tempted to get out and knock on the window of that Merc in front of me and ask if they’d take these letters and donate. The price of that car, new, is $242,780. Even a 4yo used one costs more than $150,000.
That kind of money given to World Vision would keep a hundred villages out of poverty for a decade, I would guess. Yet here, it’s a plaything, a status symbol, an executive’s reward, the payoff for a share deal or something.
I’m sure they donate, but on the table beside me I’ve got a newspaper cutting: Too few participate in philanthropy. Resource-rich West Australians “are not spreading [their] effort enough.” The average annual donation in WA is $303, 40% lower than the national average.
No point me saying any more.
As I drove, I was having a little trouble holding the steering wheel. My right hand has become cracked and painful with little cuts. They’re not injuries, they are just severe dry skin opening up. As I went on and into the mall, pushing a trolley, I found it’s even oozing a little (there’s that word again). Yet it’s only the right hand. Why?
No smutty jokes please. I realised this morning that it’s the hand I’ve been using to rub Aveeno Skin Lotion into my legs, which are doing the same. The lotion seems to have only minimal effect in easing the itching, yet my hand is suffering. I wonder if the lotion is causing some of the problem with my legs!
I’ve switched to Australian Lanolin and Lemon Tea Tree creams instead. At $1.98 per tube, versus $8.95 or so for the Aveeno …
Coincidences again. I was in BigW and heard an ad on the store radio: “Are you not tall enough to reach some of your cupboards …” or something.
At that very instant, an amazingly tall African woman strode past me. She must have been well over 2m tall and played basketball for the Nigerian Globetrotters, I’m sure. Coincidence again!
Oh, you stupid Aussie shopkeepers. I was in Dick Smith and asking about Samsung Galaxy tablets because I’d just seen the Galaxy Note and it sparked an interest.
Yes, we stock them said the girl, and led me to a locked glass cabinet. There it was in a box, but she made no move to show me. Er, can I look? I said. She unlocked the cabinet, got the box out, opened it with some difficulty and let me look inside for about 1 second then closed it again. Er, am I allowed to get a better look? No, we aren’t supposed to open the box because once we do, we can’t sell it as new.
OK, girl, you’ve lost that sale! I didn’t say it, but that was that. I wandered off, still curious and another guy came over, very cursorily said, need some help? I said, er, I was wanting to look a the Galaxy Note but it seems I can’t. Sorry sir, and he walked off!!
Then, still wanting to look around (this is the new Karrinyup Dick Smith – first time for me) I started looking at a bargain box marked From $2. It had lots of Verbatim DVD-R/DL in boxes of 4. Wow, are these $2 each? I started to load up.
But not one of them had a price marked. What does from $2 mean? I looked around for help but no employees were to be seen, except that useless guy and he was busy. Just then a loud beep alarm went off in the shop. I stood there for a minute or two, trying to get help, getting frustrated by this annoying alarm, but it went on and on. No-one was cancelling it.
After a while I threw the disc box down and walked out. Yet another no-sale. Probably won’t go back either. I will look on-line instead. It’s hopeless.
Poor Minnie. As I was going out this morning I thought, uh oh, did you fart, Minnie? She usually never does, it’s not a problem, but I could smell it.
An hour ago I could still smell it and went looking. Oh dear, she has pooed in the spare bedroom and passage. No problem, it’s bare concrete, easily cleaned up.
Dogs NEVER poo in their own nest. It hasn’t happened since she was a puppy. But now I realise —- last night in that cold, wet, winter evening, about 9:30pm she wanted to go out. I tried to get her to go out the front door if she must, but no way. I got so mad I shouted at her. Eventually she turned and went back to her bed inside.
After I went to bed at 10pm or so, I heard her moving around in the passage and called to her to join me in the bedroom, but as always, she wouldn’t. Now I know why she wanted to go outside and why she was moving in the passage. She couldn’t hold on any longer.
Holy Dawg, I don’t deserve this dog. I am mortified. Serve me right.