Confusion. Last Train To Where?

(It was supposed to be Confusion, but somehow...)

Key terms: absence, mind, confusion, beautiful women, (bloody high) taxation ... no sorry - I think the last one it for a different note.

If I forget to do something with my absent-mindedness, one day I'll get run over by myself (even though I don't drive).

Confusion can be fun, but it comes at a price. I think I've mentioned before how, after I’d dropped it on the floor, I licked a spoon to remove form it hair of a cat (called "Cat", interestingly), assorted bacteria and other small invisible stuff - both beneficial and harmful (there was no time for research: the coffee was getting cold). 

Years ago I used to live in one of those Leviathan apartment blocks (in Stegny, Warsaw), part of the local Communism's hellish heritage, that have dozens and dozens of entrances and hundreds of flats to highlight your insignificance in the eyes of the Big Brother. Coming back home I had to be careful to choose the right entrance, because I kept getting them wrong. However, one morning when I was dashing out earlier than usual (in the hope that I could make it to work decently late rather than indecently, as on most days), I caught myself turning round to check if I was leaving the right exit. (After a short consideration I decided I was).

You should never forget though that when you look away this kind of fun can easily turn into danger. Just as it did when I happened to address my future wife by the name of her best friend, also pretty*. But perhaps it's best to leave it.

Not to mention the situations when absent-mindedness approaches the very verge of idiocy, or seamlessly turns into it. (I can see how one could persuasively argue that all of the examples indicate pure idiocy, but I'll stick to the 'absent-minded' interpretation, if you don't mind).

I recall how I lied to a secondary school teacher about why I had missed a day at school, just to find myself  telling her in some detail a few minutes later about the true reason of my absence (something to do with love, but I just mentioned a name). Obviously I don’t want to tell you too much about such embarrassing stuff, so you just have to wait a little until I blab it all out by mistake.

(What's the point reminding him? I bet he's drinking out his assistant's mug now)

*Just in case let me clarify that there had never been anything - anything tangible, to be precise - between us; I mean between me and my future wife's best friend, not me and my future wife. Although there was some potential tangibility there, especially that you have to give it to her (i.e. to my wife's best friend, not my wife): she was a very nice person and there did have a few highly tangible aspects. I mean: it's not that my future wife wasn't a nice person, quite the contrary I think, or that she didn't have highly tangible aspects, but it's just that now I'm focusing - I mean: focusing purely hypothetically, just as I was then, by the way...Okay, we agreed with my then-future wife not to come back to that) on my future wife's best friend's tangible aspects, not on my then-future wife's.... here we go again, this is exactly the problem... I mean: not the tangible aspects - because how can tangible beauty be a problem? Philosophically, I mean - but that it's so difficult to deal with women who haven't dealt with philosophy, especially when it comes to discussing tangible aspects of substances.

Actually, come to think of her I've got no idea why I mentioned Edyta's body at all. 


After all, it was her face… 


and her personality that… 


Never mind#.)

PS Ah, I nearly forgot: this absent-minded meditation has been prompted by my manipulating a control on the cooker this morning and wondering if it was the right one (control, not cooker - my case is not that serious). The thing was I'd lit the burner a second before and never once took my hand off the dial.




#She's the wife of one of my very good friends.