Feeling: NOSEY & SHITTY

  

Feeling: NOSEY & SHITTY

Even though I’ve returned home, PopYarns will still be posted upon. Perhaps not the 75 entries a day like whilst I was away, but a good couple a week because let’s face it, Pop has plenty to say. 

So, a paltry five points: 

1. Whilst I was away, brother James had a wee altercation at basketball. I.e: he got clouted in the face and broke his nose. 

His nostrils were continuing to distribute out pools of blood and flem three weeks on, so he busted to the GP for aid. And he got it in the form of a Westernised version of a jala neti pot. How felicitous! A companion to cleanse with every AM and PM. 

The other night we were in the kitchen about to deterge out sinuses when James decided that rather than travel the 25 metres to the bathroom sink, he’d make use of the kitchen one right there at his disposal (pun). 

Well. Henio went apeshit. A few swear words were littered into his lingo, which was along the lines of, “Never ever do that in the kitchen sink, it’s disgusting” (though with plentiful profanities). 

As usual, poor Henio got nothing in return bar chiacking, pillory and ridicule. This further enraged him as the two of us just wouldn’t take him seriously, so he erupted to James, “If I catch you doing it in the kitchen again mate, I’ll chop your knob off”. 

So this morning once Henio had careered off to work (such a fantastic double meaning) I sent him through a snapshot of the bro and I lustrating at – where else? – the kitchen sink. 

I got the reply, “Cheeky fuckers”. 

Let’s hope James still has a doodle in the morning. 

2. First day back mother and I went to a cafe and I had a smoothie that included dairy in its ingredients; a touch of fro-yo (I just found out that’s an abbreviation for “frozen yoghurt” and it’s blown my mind) and a splash of milk. 

I embraced it with gusto. Trying to reintroduce a drop of dairy here and there was one of my goals on return; having eradicated it for the better part of four and a half years, I feel my bones and teeth are calling out for some calcium. So I’ve been having a smoothie pretty much every day. 

Unfortunately it seems in my desertion of dairy, I developed an intolerance to it. 

Cripes, since having a mere mouthful of milk incorporated into my daily diet the bowels have not been overly ecstatic. Or should that be that they have become tremendously excited? Either angle, it’s causing me grief.

The other day I worked a random shift at the clothes shop I ’twas employed at while at Uni and I’m bloody lucky it wasn’t busy in the AM. Seventeen trots (once again, double meaning) to the toilet in two hours had me pretty squirmy. 

Yesterday morning I was fortunate to make it off my spin bike at the conclusion of class in a mad dash to the loo; I was unfortunate to be trapped in a cubicle with no paper on hand to, shall we say, deal with the aftermath. Txting mum was to no avail; she’d long since departed the facilities. After a lengthy wait for anyone, anyone, to venture in and be of aid, I ended up stealthily side stepping to the next door throne for some tissues. 

And this morning? I was out on my run a good 5km from home when the stomach started churning and I had to duck into the BP and let loose (I’m sorry, so much toilet talk). As I sat into the less-than-ideally-disinfected dunny, I decided that perhaps dairy may just stay out. 

I’d thought if the stomach would crap out at any point in time, it would’ve been with Delhi Belly or Kathmandu Craps. It’s complete and udder shit. 

3. I’ve been making a real effort to actually get dressed whenever I rove into town. Before I went away, I took to living in gym gear at all times; the looseness and comfort of the oversized attire meant it was my go-to everytime I went anywhere bar actually out out. 

But each day since I’ve been back, I’ve been putting on jeans. Jeans I tell you! For me, this is massive massive massive. 

4. As I have mentioned multiple times, I tend to get a wee bit ridiculous about absurd things. 

It’s a week tonight since I got back, and I noticed today that the sunburn on the back of my calves and hands is peeling. It made me cry. The thought that my trip is getting behind me gets me so blue. 

The red tinged skin represented Everest and I always reflected on it in glee. Now it’s peeling off, I feel like I’m so far away from it. The homecoming hoo-rah has well and truly worn out and I’m pining for Nepal. 
    

5. Can we just take a moment to appreciate this absolute pearler of a parallel park? I’ve only ever been able to manoeuvre one better-than-average horizontal position for a vehicle before (either curbing the wheels or being another full car width out has been the go) so I was bloody chuffed with this straight in station. 

Could it be that being zen and in the moment has extended to my driving skills as well? 
More as it comes to light. 


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