According to the wonderfulness of the world wide interweb, blog etiquette – and by etiquette I mean tricks you can perform to get more readers engaged – dictates that a blog post should end with a question.
There was probably a point to that opening paragraph but then I got distracted by two things.
Firstly, the idea of a blog dictating something conjured up images of a whole bunch of words clustering together to form a likeness of Hitler strutting rage-filled and jack-booted across my perfect word-free (undoubtedly white, possibly blond-haired and blue-eyed) page spouting propaganda.
Secondly, I got to wondering if it would be simpler to just read the last line of every post in a cliched Australian accent so that a question would be implied? Thereby obviating the need to pose an actual question.
“Maybe we should take a trip this weekend?”
I offer it up but with no real enthusiasm. Put it out there. Knowing full well it’ll be shot down.
“Where do you want to go Ray?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a cheese place or something?”
I feel like there’s an opening so I keep talking. Warm to my theme like some riffing comedian we used to watch at the studio years back.
Out of necessity for the protection of the few remaining shreds of sanity I have left my brain has adapted and can now filter out almost anything that exists in the background world of television. I imagine it must be how a heavily sedated caged tiger feels. I still want to destroy every last remnant of Kardashianism that plagues our planet but it’s a distant, slippery feeling and I can’t quite get a handle on it and oh look a new chapter to read in my book let’s get back to that.
However. On occasion a certain level of what-the-fuckness bypasses the filter and all bets are off.
One of the joys of working in an air-conditioned office is that you often get to experience four seasons in a day. I will admit that those seasons with a recognised equinox do pose more of a challenge. Sure, you can come to work armed with a bag of autumnal leaves and a flask of spring rain to help things along but generally Winter and Summer tend to hold sway.
There’s a theory that’s half fact half urban legend that you are legally obliged to be sent home from work if temperatures fall outside certain parameters within the workplace. Lower than 13 degrees or above 30 degrees Celsius seems to be the accepted rumour for the UK. Aussies are much tougher and only start having breaks in their day when it hits 35 but even there it’s apparently hometime when it hits 38. The lower band is unlikely to be problematic down under.