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amusing

I had a really gross discovery in the glass pot we keep the table salt. On the bottom a black, shrivelled body of a snail was hiding.

I’m not sure if it had an existential crisis and crawled all the way across the kitchen into the salt-pot to end it all, or it was just an exceptionally stupid snail, but what the actual hell… Just why?

At least it made cutting back on calories easy on that day.

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This happened way back in the winter of 2012 when I was typing up my PhD thesis at home during the Christmas break.

 

I was sitting in the kitchen by my computer on a Saturday morning, when my mother came in, with the groceries and a brand new broom she bought on the market.

 

I looked up briefly, and said: “I thought you took the car to the market”, and went back to typing.

 

There was a brief, stunned silence, then about twenty minutes of laughter.

 

So in the last post I mentioned my phone… I feel like I really need to add a short addendum. I did mention I did not like the phone, as it was not a very good one; well, one of the major issues is that a finger-width band on the screen is unresponsive. So I’ve got all this awesome computing power, a CPU with multiple cores, and no way to run games (the only things that actually use this power on a phone), since you need the full screen normally to interact with the software.

But it gets worse. I was on a job interview yesterday, and when I tried to unlock the screen afterwards I realized I cannot. There’s a character “1” in my pin; and since it happens to be placed in the area of that particular strip, I could not actually enter my pin. It used to work -the area was not completely unresponsive- but now it became absolutely impossible. It was maddening and ridiculous at the same time. So that’s it: I’ve got a phone I cannot get into unless I have the screen replaced.

No, not that kind. (We can talk about it, too, if you want to.)

 

I had to reboot my phone the other day, and for that I needed to remove the battery; so the phone came out of its hard protective shell which made it look like a big, flat, rubber brick.

I just realized how nice it actually looks. Designers poured countless hours to make it look aesthetically pleasing, from the brushed metal surface to the curved lines on the side, and then to make sure it does not get damaged should I dropped it onto some concrete walkway, I hide it all in layers of plastic and rubber. (By the way the phone is bad; I’m never going to get another LG again. But it does look good.) It was like having a brand new phone, so I did not put it back to the protective case. At least not yet.

 

Anyhow, this  lead me thinking about the whole issue of protection and function. We use protective cases, protective mats for sofas, carpets and chairs; essentially disfiguring these items in order to make sure they stay beautiful (or at least whole).

Just look at this thing.

eb-belsofa-velvet-sofa-protector-stone

You spend two grands on a leather sofa, and then cover it to make sure it does not get damaged. The fact you have a beautiful leather sofa can only be deducted from the presence of the protector, but now, what you have, objectively looking, is a butt-ugly sofa in the end.

We are weird.

 

 

I tried to get rid of everything that was left over from my relationship long gone. I did throw and give away most of the reminders (except for the regrets and bitter memories which are not so easy to discard), but there’s one thing I just can’t part with. Not because of any emotional value it might have -it was never used by her-, but because of how it looks.

Just take a look at this crazy Chinese kitchen tool. Does it look like something you would use in a kitchen, or does it look like something the elite Chinese special forces would use behind enemy lines?

0h4stlh

I think the answer is clear. I kind of want to mount this thing in a frame and put it on the wall.

Here I am, holding the door to a lady working in the Incidents team at my office. We have been in touch during exercises (work related, not physical exercise done in a gym), we say hi every morning; you know the drill.

So I hold the door for her going back to the office from the powder room, when she says “hello Mr Cool”.

The response was a slightly slack jaw and a somewhat confused face. She smiles at me, and says “we call you Mr Cool because you’re cool”, and walks away.

So yeah. That’s me. Mr Cool.

I’m still trying to find my jaw as it dropped, hit the ground and bounced away somewhere.