KW 30/23

Things I could elaborate upon this week:
the sour smell of a half-digested flokati, that hit me right at the beginning of the week.
The absence of sunlight, while I'd just decided to develop some prints requiring strong UV light.
The vast amounts of water, that fell out of the sky turning the nearby campus into a Glastonbury mud venue (obviously someone up there must have been suffering of incontinence).
Me being obliged to clean the fur ball 6 times a day (in consequence of him attending Glastonbury, unable to stage-dive), which left me with no time to clean myself. The compulsion to publish this post exactly at 11:11 although I did not make a decision as to what point should be pursued further.

KW 29/23

This week would have been more fruitful in a vegetative state. Pretty much everything sucked and sacked.
Among the obvious brittle hair, withered flesh, dull eye(s) the look in the mirror returned uplifting questions such as: What on earth am I doing here? Why am I still sitting in this dump of a city? Why is money always an issue (although I am virtually old enough to retire)? WTF is wrong with me? 
To top it all off I reviewed my old body of work, a.k.a. my life’s „achievements“resembling a waste disposal site. What I'd once considered genius had gone rotten and left me dumb-founded.
What the hell was I thinking? Who is ever going to be interested in this? Even puke appears more coherent. 
I felt the strong desire to set fire to everything but resisted. Why? I ain't got a clue...

KW 28/23

This week A(K)I and me had the opportunity to escape the capital heatwave and spend a few days in quadruped paradise (at least according to the local conditions). Unfortunately though certain people are of such annoying nature, that even as a cuddly toy they’d be a horrendous nuisance.
It’s impossible to escape these subpar intelligent gossips, as they tend to nest in family circles like ticks in dog's fur. With greedy eyes they watch out to nip every trace of joy in the bud. 

Thankfully I had planned to spend the majority of the time away from "pet cemetery", visiting the local outdoor pool. Then of course that got sabotaged, as somebody set fire to it (incidentally also causing a 2 million damage).
However... In order to make lemonade out of lemons and pay justice to the joyful nature that I am, I tried to remain optimistic.
That was before I woke up in the morning with a stye in the eye, leaving me with only one intact organ of sight, looking like a cyclop throughout the week.
Finally (a day before departure) A(K)I got a new haircut, which completely disfigured him. He now resembles an evil gremlin as it is apparently possible to remove hair in the wrong places. But at least this pays tribute to the idea that a dog should fit its owner.

KW 27/23

As a realist with a slight tendency towards doom and gloom, I tend to expect the apocalypse every day. One could say, I rehearse the serious case on a daily basis. It's the default setting.

Therefore news that send gullible optimists into a deep depression (i.e. "bad" weather forecasts) come as natural to me, as cereal for breakfast or (in case you don't eat cereal or have breakfast)"taking a dumb".
That being said, many people seem reluctant to the fact that they have a digestive system. In fact, they'd rather sell their souls to the devil than ever being caught purchasing toilet paper (#pandemic_is_over)

Generally speaking, optimists have a talent for ignoring the hard facts. The sun is always shining either up their ass or hidden somewhere inside.
Summer is peak season for optimists. It can never be hot enough for them to wallow in the heat and bread their sweaty bodies. Their enthusiasm levels rise simultaneously to the outside temperature. Hard times for realists like me to get by. 
So far, I've been able to avoid these people but since the arrival of the morkie, I am forced to interact with the outside world several times a day. Therefore I'm trying to adjust to their climate. After all, one shouldn't expect the worst every day, right?!

KW 26/23

It's officially July (#half time), meaning 50% of the year have already been and gone and I'll fear it'll be X-mas the day after tomorrow.
Its not even noon yet and I've already been up for a whole business day, before the rest of the world did even have its morning coffee.
This is worth mentioning as until recently, the so-called "early-bird-life" seemed to me like a spawn of hell. I mean..who seriously chooses voluntarily to get up before 10 given the choice?
To me the early riser has always been a questionable figure that sparked as much excitement as a rice cracker. However...
NOW. Things changed. And I gotta admit, there is something quite captivating between 5- and 7am.
Perhaps the biggest benefit of this hour interval: There's still the possibility to exploit the full potential of the day. Nothing's lost (yet).
Then of course, everything is reasonably CALM. It's either that or I have turned deaf. I notice hardly any distracting noises, vehicles or humans, one has to avoid. Tourist-Trolley-Crowds are still asleep, as are breakfast halls and coffee shops. The emptiness on the streets makes me take a deep breath as if I'd just survived the apocalypse and for an instant I almost feel at peace with this rotten city.
The same seems to go for the morkie, who walks obediently besides me, as if he had never been "off-line"
However, the relief is short lived.

When returning home after 9, the day is practically over. First I have to groom the morkie, check his fur for ticks, sticks and all sort of rubbish. If I'm lucky this will be a matter of minutes...else it'll be like yesterday. An hour got lost in anal hygiene, in other words: cleaning his a**hole (FSK 18) And that's not all.
AFTER (that): (Despite being up 8 hours before noon) I gotta face the fact that I didn't cross "a thing" of my to do list. Actually I didn't even manage to compile the to do list. By this time my physical state resembles an old lady with hip-, back and joint problems who would be better off in a nursing home (need level 3)
I mean, I could really do with a break, like the morkie. But while he has time to rest (whenever he is not eating or having fun) I've got to get on with everything else that life commands (cleaning the dishes, load up the washing, grocery shopping (preferably before 10h)...replace the watch strap. not to mention "work to earn a living".

Through the open doors my tired eyes turn to the right, to ally with the unmade bed against me. Just give us a 2 minute break, I hear my swollen feet whine.
Just one more deep breath of cool air squeezing through the tilted window, my lungs beg. My ears don't trust the silence. Sounds flow in. Rustling of leaves, running water, doors slamming shut and suddenly a voice... singing (heartbreakingly intense) "Illusion never changed /Into something real /I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn / You're a little late / I'm already T-O-R-N"
And this pretty much sums up the week.