Fidgetness

I wish to announce that I'm going.

I am absolutely bored out of my skull. I have nothing to do and I have come to the revelation that unless I leave here I will always be bored. So I'm going. Not from here. Just from here. With me?
Good.

So I'm packing my stuff. Evo can come with. But where will I go? That I'm not sure of yet. But I'm sure something will arise and spark a direction for travel. I've always wanted to travel south. I'll probably head there.

Spontaneous, you cry? Well of course it is. But I've been sitting here, slowly banging my head against the wall, sgathering a rythmic motion that slowly drives me insane. You'd want to leave too.

Well that was a good burst of fidgetness. Right, now where's my hat? Anyone seen it?

The Absence of Smell

I arrived back home yesterday and because of my long absence there was a pile of mail crammed into my mailbox.

A friend of mine has a father that is a dentist and offered me a discounted rate in lieu of me being able to choose when my appointment was. One of the many envelopes spread over my kitchen bench contained the appointment time. It was 9:15 am today. That isn't the best time to see a dentist but I couldn't say no to the offer.

There is something oddly sterile about waiting rooms; dental waiting rooms in particular. I think it's the smell. It isn't a good smell or a bad smell. In fact, the more I think about it, there is no smell. The smell is absent. The same way dark is the absence of light and cold is the absence of warmth.

Like motel rooms and reception areas, waiting rooms offer plain floral portraits on plain cream-coloured walls, well-read magazines, immaculately clean carpet and small, mildly padded chairs.

If I had the authority I would change the name 'waiting room' to 'reluctantly waiting room'.
It has a nice ring to it.