Things that seem true but probably aren't

1. Half of Adelaide has taken up smoking in the past eight weeks. Perhaps there was some sort of World Take Up Smoking Day Event and I missed it. Probably fortunate that I did, really.


2. Working days are awfully long affairs, aren't they?


3. Despite there being several hundred foot outlets in town, every single one of them sells sushi, soft cheeses, cold meats, pre-made salads, alcohol and/or coffee. And nothing else.


4. Every single one of my workmates is so irritating, obtuse and dull that really in the scheme of things my bad mood is entirely justified because honestly can I be expected to keep quiet when M makes sexist jokes or G tries to tell me how to do my job or K asks me whether I've finished that thing yet when obviously I haven't finished that thing because I am TIRED and BUSY and my God do you people realise how much effort it takes for me to get out of BED in the mornings recently and furthermore and additionally SHUT UP.


5. Alternatively, all of my friendships are based on the shared consumption of alcohol. I don't know which explanation gives me greater pause.


6. Bed, despite wafting its lusciously soft pillows through my consciousness at inconvenient moments (much in the same way that the touch of a man's knuckle brushing against one's cheek or the sensation of gently biting into a warmly salt-slicked shoulder comes back into one's mind during an important client meeting and makes one blush, or at least it used to, you know, back in the days when one had a libido) and flaunting its wanton comfiness as soon as I arrive home, is not actually very comfortable. In fact, I swear that all of my pillows have morphed into strangle triangular beings designed to give me a neck crick. This is the only plausible explanation for the fact that, no matter how tired I am when I go to bed, I never sleep particularly well.


7. No, really, the working day. Let's talk about it. Does it seem reasonable to you that one is expected to work for up to ten hours a day? Does it? Does it really? Because it seems to me that we'd all be far happier with a thirty hour week. I'm just saying, look at the French! With their...chic, and their cafes, and their haute cuisine and okay okay their racial tensions and high unemployment rates and may I refer you to point number 4 wherein I invited you to SHUT UP?