Things to do

I love lists.

Especially when life is getting a little hectic and crazy, like now. I find them very soothing and reassuring, but not particularly helpful, mostly due to my habit of writing them on whatever scraps of paper come to hand. This results in a series of half finished lists graffitied with little drawings of kittens and sailboats, with little crumbs on them from the stress-relieving chocolate. Not helpful.

However, I have discovered that they are useful for charting my mood and stress levels over time. For example, I found one list written a few days ago which suggests that I should perhaps have been seeking counselling rather than just writing lists.

• Eat something. Not tea.
  
• Breathe more.
• Get haircut. No time. Cut own fringe.
• Thursday. (Note: I still don't know what was happening on Thursday.)
• MDIA305 Assignment.
• MDIA306 Assignment.
• MDIA310 Assignment.
• WRIT202 Assignment.
• Move house.
• Or get on better with housemates.
• Visit Careers office - find career.
• Go for a run. (This appears on most 'to do' lists.)
• Call Mum, avoid lecture about lifestyle.
  

The list itself wasn't entirely unusual. It was the fact that I found it in my fridge, with a sock, that suggested that maybe I should just calm the hell down.

So I made another 'to do' list.

• Go back to bed.
• Watch Glee for three hours in a row.
  

Best 'to do' list ever.

The Consequences of Drinking

I went out for a drink with a friend the other day. One drink turned, as it so often does, into two drinks. And two drinks turned into us sitting in Betty's with a jug between us arguing about whether or not the waiter was a hottie. (In case you were wondering: he wasn't)

Anyway, when I realised the time I made a tipsy run for the last bus and was terribly pleased when I made it. A few stops later some drunk teenagers jumped on and I sighed in a hypercritical way. Drunk people...

They were making lots of noise and using language a sailor would have been proud of, and eventually the bus driver, a tiny little Asian man, stopped the bus and went down the back to have words with them.

Things escalated very quickly, and no one looked more surprised than the driver himself when he found himself with an agressive drunk girl on her knees in an armlock. It was all game on at that point: the girl next to me called the police, the drunk girl's friend stole the cash box and ran off down the street, and a little tiny old woman shuffled up and down the bus reporting on the mayhem. And while it was all very exciting, with the flashing red and blue lights, attractive policemen and the yelling of the drunk girl (now in handcuffs), there was only one thought running through my head:

I have to pee.

Great. The most exciting thing that's happened to me in weeks and all I can think about is waterfalls and running taps. Even the hot policemen couldn't distract me, which was such a wasted opportunity.

I got the foot tap and the jiggling leg going, and I must have looked very anxious, because the little shuffling woman came and patted my hand reassuringly. Which was sweet of her, but didn't help me in the slightest. I couldn't even get off and run for a toilet, because the police wanted to question people.

So I made small talk with the girl next to me about dry things like biscuits and sand and my sense of humour, and eventually everyone who ought to be arrested was arrested, the hot policemen drove off into the night, and the little shuffling woman stopped shuffling and was escorted back to her seat by the driver.

It was quite an exciting adventure, which made for several retellings the next day, each one more exaggerated than the last.

And in case you were wondering, I made it home in time.

All together now...

I was standing in the middle of a crowd on Lambton Quay today, all of us staring up at the top of a tall office building with a mixture of horror, confusion and morbid curiosity. The street had been police taped up, fire engines and police were in attendance and we, the people, just stood and watched.

More and more passersby joined the crowd staring up at the glass fronted building. We were enthralled. One man joined the crowd at my side.

"What's going on? What are we looking at?" he asked in concern.

I looked at him and shook my head. "I have no idea. But everyone else was looking so I joined in."

He nodded understandingly, and we both turned our attention back to the building.

I don't think New Zealand's sheep population is entirely ovine.