Over a bowl of saucy pasta I tell my fellow diner that the late Bob Ross is apparently an accidental ASMR star: his quiet, soporific voice paints bliss on the canvas of overwrought, stressed souls. My companion blurts past a mouthful of spaghetti, eyes wide, What do YOU know about ASMR? WHY do you know… Continue reading ASMR & a Mop
The babies have dark-dot eyes. One has its fluffy backside to me. The other stares down at my face with steady curiosity, an unblinking interest. Poops are sliding down the pillar. Oh dear. How messy is this going to get? Stop talking to the babies, Ma says my smiling youngest son as he comes down… Continue reading Dove Tales
To dispense with our need for human interaction and touch, the future will usher in pop-ups. All items will be ordered online and require no installation. My wish list? A pop-up partner. The online store will have a Character & Features menu like those in video games. I'll lift my couriered flat Stanley out of… Continue reading Pop-up Stanley
The creepy-calm Google Maps voice gets me only so far. From there, it's a case of Driving Ms Crazy. I have DDPD (Duel Driver Personality Disorder*). I'm a good driver (Ms Sane) stuck in a bad navigator's body (Ms Crazy). A treacherous, cruel joke. It means I look good going - smooth gear and lane… Continue reading Driving Ms Crazy
Are you dynamite? Sent to blow us up, blow us to bits? We've solidified, settled into our life like an immovable, stubborn mound of rocks, and you come along with your short fuse and explosive intentions and destroy our stale stability and structure. Bless you, because you signed up for the shittiest job, and you'll… Continue reading Dynamite People Ow!
Faffing around with words and graphics lights me up. I twinkle-twinkle like a little star and stop wondering how you are. Or how I am. Or how anything is. The sun sets, the house darkens. Curtains are not closed (in my opinion, this is the only unnerving consequence of my intense absorption - I don't… Continue reading Faffing Around