Lots has been going on in the past couple of days.
After being confronted with the reality of my horrible memory, I looked up ‘Memory Exercises’ on Google. As I should have expected, most of the results that turned up were titled “Memory Exercises for Seniors,’ or ‘To Boost the Aging Mind.’ I didn’t realize I was in that audience quite yet, but oh well.
The mission to self-improve ended there, as the first link I pressed told me to learn a new language or instrument. I would, but I’m not going to—sorry, neurologists. One of the other listed options was doing math problems in your head while walking or playing word games internally, thinking of things ending or beginning with the same first or last two letters.
As you can see, none of this sounds ‘fun.’ Oh well, I guess it’s a problem when it’s a problem.
Other than in my own life, much has transpired in the dorms.
I call this, Ghosts of Christmases Past.
Additionally, we have the birds of a feather. The LED epidemic is spreading throughout upper rez. Thankfully, my building is within the six feet recommended distance, so for now, it is safe. The spores cannot make contact, despite their most substantial efforts.
Besides that, the light on the 5th? 6th? floor has been flickering for the past couple of days, which could have been hazardous if I had lived here when I was five. Epilepsy is no joke. My floor’s bathroom also has a malfunctioning light, and as a result, it makes the sound of ping-pong a couple of rooms away. Every time I’m peeing, I’m convinced there’s a game going on and am promptly reminded of the crushing reality. Unfortunately, no ping-pong table thus far.
As the building breaks down, my body breaks down with it. My skin is still the helpless victim to the Montreal air, drying out with a vigor I have never seen before.
To this, Celeste suggested I start wearing silk gloves around at all times. Much like my initial ideas of stopping deodorant use or abandoning my shoes for the barefoot life, I think this could be a multilayered scheme. Other than protecting my hands from drying out, it will attract like-minded individuals, drawing them out of their silken shells.
I suppose I would have to take these gloves off once in a while, like when brushing my teeth or washing my face, but I think they will still do their job.
Speaking of brushing my teeth, I often spend those enduring 2 minutes reading the warning labels, ingredients list, and directions of my various products when getting ready for bed.
Yesterday, ACT mouthwash was subjected to my critical eye. Upon deeper investigation, I noticed that it said that if you were to swallow more than the usual serving size (that’s definitely not the right word, but what is?), you should immediately call poison control. Unsurprisingly, this piqued my curiosity. I wondered, how much mouthwash could you really drink before needing help? I looked it up; supposedly, it's one to two liters. One to two liters seems quite purposeful, as you would need to drain probably a couple of bottles for anything to take effect. I then wondered, what does mouthwash overdose look like?
Google, as usual, my trusty source, told me that it caused stomach pains. No shit, I guess. (Ha).
More surprisingly, though, I learned that in some instances, it could cause a coma or even death. This may shock you, but if I were presented with a choice, I would rather not die from drinking too much mouthwash.
Just imagine – usually, the first question that pops into people’s heads is how. To be confronted with ‘mouthwash,’ I’m not sure how people would react. “Live fast, die young.”
At least the people would know my teeth were clean.
-Violet
P.S. Online background erasers are a magical thing.
Comentários