Friday, 3 April 2009

The cultivation of helplessness…

It’s been one of those weeks…

Yesterday, Patrick my car, lost the plot and set the alarm off on me in the car park after work...beep, beep...frigging beep, beep over and bloody over again. Why? Oh who knows? All I did was open the boot (trunk) and toss stuff in. Then I opened the car and got in to drive it – that’s when it spakked out as if I was an intruder. Sod of a thing. “It’s me – Amarinda - you big lug.” Patrick didn’t care so I started yelling at him to shut up. He kept beeping. I turned the car off and pulled out the key. It kept beeping. “What do you want from me I yelled? I have been a work all day! I have problems to burn and now you want to try it on?” I don’t think Patrick is the compassionate sort. This may stem from the fact he has Betty Boop car seat covers and a crystal and a Buddha hanging illegally from the rear-view mirror. But he has to deal with it. I require these things in the car.

Anyway, I got out of the spakking out car and opened the boot and then shut it. I figured Patrick was having an issue with me touching the boot….prissy bloody thing. Sure enough, the beeping stopped carrying on. O-kay. We were both once more calm. I got in the car and started it. Beep-frigging-poxy-beep started again. I did the open shut boot thing again and eventually Patrick shut the hell up. Yeah, but for how long? Since we were both momentarily calm I knew what I had to do. I was forced to get out the car owners manual. It had no help in it at all. Typical. I always knew instructions were a waste of frigging time. After another couple of rounds of beeping and swearing I got out of the car, locked it, paced around and explained “I am not in the mood for this Patrick.” I believe he sensed that by my pissed-offed-ness and that possibly I was going to kick him for when I got back into the car he was purred like a kitten when I turned the key. Just like a man. Make a big song and dance about nothing to get my attention.

Anyway this morning when I got to work various males told me they heard the alarm and watched what I did until it stopped beeping. “Hmm…did you think of helping me?” The response? “No - you look like the capable sort.” Right. Thanks - not. Yes, I am capable and of course I can do everything so no one ever thinks to help me. It’s my own fault. Everyone assumes I am capable. I am thinking about cultivating helplessness…that or get a duck or maybe two for the backyard. How does a duck help me – in any way? Well it doesn’t but then as I said it’s been one of those weeks… a duck can’t hurt surely….
Go Ahead : Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?