She who must be obeyed is away. Off to a family function which involves a grandfather joining the monkhood and all the assorted ritual that this entails. She knows me too well to ask whether I want to attend, especially as her mother, grandmother and sister all came to Pattaya so the four of them could fill a car with chattering females and endless snacks. No thank you, I will stay and keep the cats company.
She is gone for less than an hour when the first of many SMS messages arrive. I will spare you the details but it involved her bowels and the need to empty them. I am used to this. Many a journey has been interrupted by the need for she who must be obeyed to find a toilet. Immediately; or else bad things are going to happen inside the vehicle which may require a surcharge at the car wash. But I was at home and she was somewhere en route to Bangkok, so not clear what role I could play in a solution. Presumably it was just so I could worry about her remotely. So I did.
Then she called me to tell me that my truck indicator lights were not working. Her mother had driven behind when going out for breakfast and reckoned that my indicator lights were broken because I had not indicated when I normally would. She was not being facetious, my mother in law genuinely believes I am a good driver and a wonderful person; both of which are true of course. It’s also true that I only indicate when I think it is required to inform other drivers on the road of my intentions. I feel this is is more indicative of thoughtful driving than using them all the time, or never using them, or selecting a direction at random and then doing something completely different; which seems to be the norm around here. I certainly would not bother indicating left when I am in a left turn only lane and the driver behind me (mother) knows exactly where I am going. But there is no point in explaining this over the phone, so I express concern and promise I will check.
Don’t forget, you know what you are like. I won’t (she is right, I probably will forget). Write a note to yourself. I won’t forget. Tie a reminder to your car key chain. I WON"T FORGET!!!
I forgot. But when she asked me about them last night I told her they were fine. I will check later on today. Unless I forget.
Back from windsurfing and we have a chat. I confess my back is a little sore. She reveals a secret stash of Lush bath bombs and instructs me to take a hot bath. This suddenly seems like a good idea so I run the water, turn it frothy orange with a bath salt father Xmas, and ease my aching limbs into the mix. Most relaxing.
When I first fitted out the condo, I fitted a whirlpool bath in one of the bathrooms. Trouble is, while we both take at least two showers a day, we rarely take a bath. I reckon I use it a couple of times a year. In between the bathing events, the water in the pipes of the whirlpool unit has time to fester; so when I press the button to start the water jets, a load of disgusting smelling water is ejected into the bath. You can emulate this. A meal of Guinness and beans, a couple of hours fermentation time and then into the bath and fart. See what I mean? Revolting. So I jump out of the bath and take a cleansing shower.
Freshened up and I embark on my evening project. SMS from the boss asks how I am getting on and I reply: “In the dark in the bathroom with a chocolate covered strawberry, a candle and a camera”. I get the response: “OK, will talk to you later”. My wife knows me well.
Once the word “camera” is mentioned, she knows I am pursuing some pointless photographic mission, and the strawberries and candle are clearly props; no need to ask further.
There was a competition in Gizmodo for photographs that had been lit by a single candle. Nobody had done the obvious trick of using a single candle to set a house on fire and then photographing that, but there were some ingenious offerings and I felt slightly inspired, sufficient to sacrifice a chocolate covered strawberry or two. I had brought home some Chiang Mai strawberries as a treat for SWMBO, and she had upped their desirability by covering them in chocolate. The few that remained were waiting in the fridge for me.
I had a vision of a strawberry, glinting in the candlelight, while molten chocolate dripped off it onto the candle in a sensual, but non-extinguishing, manner. Genius. First I needed a way of suspending the strawberry, so it was out with the blue plastic pipe.
Then we moved to the location for the shoot. By “we” I mean myself and the cats who were determined to help in whatever way possible, especially as the process involved usage of my lightbox which they love to sit in. By “location” I mean a bathroom; useful because there is no natural light, and a plentiful supply of water if things went a little wrong with the candle.
Things went a little wrong with everything, perhaps best illustrated by an review of the strawberry consumption records.
Strawberry 1 - Consumed by photographer as an incentive before shooting began. Strawberry 2 - Bitten by cat while photographer was away finding lighter for candle Strawberry 3 - Fell onto candle when clothes peg failed, covering it in wax Strawberry 4 - Turned black and started to smoke from being too close to candle Strawberry 5 - Covered in cat hair after chocolate melted and cat decided this was a good time to claim squatting rights in lightbox, Cat singed and acquired slight chocolate colouration, trust SWMBO will not notice. Strawberry 6 - Consumed by photographer as a consolation once he realised he was wasting his time. Strawberry 7 - There are no more strawberries.
Complete waste of time. I never achieved the sensual, molten look, just the crap, slightly damp, look. And what a waste of strawberries.
Next call with the management and she tells me I have to feed the cats. “Just checked their food”, I tell her proudly. “No, not them, Pet Society”!
SWMBO has enough email addresses for a small town, each of which is dedicated to one or more Facebook based games. Some of these games require you to check in daily, or else some form of digital life will die. Last night it was three cats in Pet Society. I am led through the sign on process, and sure enough there are cats awaiting my attention. Each is coloured in a manner that could never be achieved by breeding, and each is indicating what type of food I need to give it. “Click on shop to buy the food” she tells me. “Do they sell chainsaws, I could eliminate this colourful scourge once and for all”? This suggestion does not go down well so I shut up and go through the digital pet feeding procedure. Tonight I have to feed fish.
I will be glad when she comes back tomorrow. I find it much easier to follow directions when they do not have to be delivered via phone. And, I just miss her.
Comments 🔗
2010-03-16| Jock says“And, I just miss her.”
Given your account of how you spent your last 24 hours you certainly do … maybe you should become a Thai Bhuddist Monk … that would certainly be the cream on the cake of what is your very interesting life ..
… can’t wait for next month’s Gizmodo competition … can you please invite your readership to participate …. I have a cracking entry if it involves ’lighted farts’ …
2010-03-17| Spike saysI am happy windsurfing, taking photographs, messing around with computers and spending time with my wife. And writing about it in a way that amuses me.
Interesting enough for me. If not for you, readership is entirely optional.
2010-03-17| Qon saysi’d be lost without ‘baby’ - i feel u bro ;)
2010-03-17| Wentworth saysIt looks like Gitmo for strawberries.
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2010-08-27| Billy saysDear Bongs … never would be too soon, Billy
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2011-02-08| Spike saysI think it is spamming crap.