Even at my age, nothing feels more relaxing and fulfilling than burying my face into my teddy’s belly … which reminds me that Yogie beary bear is due home soon! But until then, I wait with abated breath recalling my last promise to put out a search party in the event my Yogie beary bear doesn’t reappear.
But with the Arab Spring, one can’t be too sure, more so with traces of America and diplomacy in his passport.
But with my Yogie beary bear, it is these risks that gets his adrenalin pumping.
We all have our addictions.
We all need our fix from time to time.
Last heard was a bear hug from Tehran.
And days have passed ….
Other than the 80-90 hour work week, only one other thought have been bugging me: the monthly stream of sustenance that comes in.
It does seem a bit short these days.
Notwithstanding the recent 4 handbags purchase in a span of 6 weeks.
Or the transfers made for the upcoming Kenya-Ethiopia trip.
For once in my life the pay cheque quantum matters.
Perhaps this is largely due to my lack of ‘purpose’ – the non-existence of what we used to jokingly acknowledge as “work-jihad”.
Or perhaps I am finally transforming to be more human. More normal.
I am too exhausted to seek alternatives though. I have countless of brain farts a day now.
So, you’d understand if you find my shoes in the fridge, keys in the sugar jar.
As of today, I finally understood what it means to have a fried brain – void of being strapped into an electrocution chair. After two days of 7-hours straight of data dump on structures, functions and interdependency of a financial service industry organisation … my temples were pounding. The nape of my neck feels as if I have a hot iron pressed against it … so, yes, this must be fried brains!