Blateraton

In lieu of the usual senseless (but perfectly cromulent) blateraon featured on this here weblog, I bring you Save the Words. You can thank me for adimpleating your day later.

Samuel Barber - Adagio for Strings

Yeah, it's corny as hell, but the Desiderata got put into my head when I was an impressionable teenager in the just-post-hippie era. There are worse philosophies for life, eh?

In which our heroine shows her true colours

In the pharmacy. Checking out the sample-sized tubes of hand moisturizing cream with a view to purchasing some for my purse.

I select one... unscrew the top to see what it smells like (because I hate most perfumes) and it... explodes on to my favourite scarf... Well. That's embarrassing.

So I wipe it off with my hand and proceed to the make-up department to get a tissue... and I can't get the damn stuff wiped off. Three tissues later... it's still somehow squoozing back onto my hand. And my gloves, which I'm also holding.

Finally, get it contained. Decide to look at a Christmas gift pack of something and... get some kind of lipstick/lip gloss someone else has gotten on the tag on my finger.

WT??? Go through the same routine trying to divest myself of said cosmetological substance.

Colour me CLUMSY.

That is all.