trash compactor, star wars, trash, rubbish, bins, princess leia, things we care about

Things we wish we didn’t care about


“Have they collected?” It would appear not. And then I go outside and peer into the neighbours’ empty bins. That’s dignified. Then I send emails to the council demanding to know why they haven’t collected my rubbish. Is there something wrong with my rubbish? So that’s who we are now. Bin botherers. Sexy.


So is it tights weather yet? But is it? It’s a bit cold. But tights already? Actually is the world divided into those who have been planning their re-entry to tights since August and those who will suffer (but smugly) until December? That’s not even the end of the tight train of thought. Sheer? Opaque? Sheer? Opaque? Navy? Fishnet? Also do you wear them low? High? Who has the best tights? Are we old school M&S? Or new kid on the block Heist? Can we do hold-ups or will we feel silly? Honestly, the possibilities are boring but endless.


We used to think of seeds and nuts as snacks. Now they are tiny teeth smugglers that get stuck in your front four, so that in meetings you can only worry away at the little nub or even risk that incredibly inelegant dig around while you are pretending to concentrate on what Matthew from HR is saying. And if they are not wedged in the front then they are potential Davids to your molar Goliaths. Small rocks that might send you on a six-month dentistry Odyssey with one little badly angled crack. Let’s not start on toffees…


One minute you have all the time in the world, you are cavalierly jumping on scooters to ride down twisty island roads without sunscreen. The next minute, OMFG.


“So I will just send over a dropbox file,” says the efficient person at the end of the phone/email. At which point you begin to scream internally. Yes it should be easy. Yes I get how it works (I don’t and it doesn’t) but why does the word Dropbox haunt my waking hours? I just want to live Dropbox-free. Why is that too much to ask?


Are you amaro? Or crema? Maybe it’s a clarendon day. Or lark? Lark is cool, calm, collected. Let’s go for lark. Or are we the puppy face or the cute ears and nose of a koala? Does it make what we are saying any less annoying if we have a garland of flowers on our heads? Or are you #nofilter? Like Alexandra Shulman in her bikini. Didn’t she look cool?

Things that grow on our faces

There is a blob on my face that measures less than 2mm by less than 2mm. I have been to a skin doctor about it. It needs plastic surgical intervention. I can’t stop thinking about it. I *may* even talk to it. Can I live with the blob? Do I have time to live with the blob when I am battling what threatens to be a full beard?


Do you stand at the sink and think about fatbergs? Do you walk down the street and think about all the fatbergs you are stepping over? When did fatbergs start jostling for non-existent brainspace? But there they are, claiming their place on the anxiety list. Fatbergs.

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