Sometimes...or The Most one can Hope for when Commuting

Sometimes a complete stranger follows you off the train...to give you the glove you unkonwingly dropped.
Sometimes you get a fantastic cup of coffee...from the crappy old stand at Walthamstow Central.
Sometimes it's gray and rainy when you descend into the tube station...and bright and cleary and sunny when you emerge.
Sometimes on the train you look over...and see a little girl doing the most beautiful needlework.
Sometimes a person leaves a copy of The Economist on the seat when they leave...or better still, Vogue.
Sometimes someone gives up their seat for you.
Sometimes you get to give up your seat for someone who needs it more.
Sometimes none of these are true...like Monday, Monday will probably make me want to push someone onto the tracks.
But today, today I got three out of seven...
Which ain't bad.

I can now let go of my grudge.

My cynical nature suffered a big time blow this morning.

For a long time now I've held a bitter grudge against the producers of such films as Bridget Jones' Diary that have led me (and no doubt countless other Americans) to believe that it snows in London when--come to find out--that's not the case. I've even gone so far as to label it false advertising.

Well, this morning it snowed!

Don't get me wrong; it's not the huge drifts that suerpskinny Colin Firth and trouser-less Renee Zellweger stand and embrace in...but it is snow nonetheless.

Wow, perhaps you can believe that real life is like the movies after all.

There must be some irked Canadians out there.

I've noticed lately that, upon hearing me speak, people tend to sort of timidly ask, "Are you from North America?" or "Do I detect a North American accent?"

This leads me to believe that at some point, Canadians in the UK must have gotten so fed up with being asked, "Are you American?" that they started punching inquirers in the face.

My thoughts on being home sick, or "poorly" as they say here.

I have this theory about being home sick and that is this: there is no point in being home sick from work if you are in fact too sick to enjoy it. If that's the case you may as well be at work. The best time to be home sick is when you are just sick enough to justify staying home but not too sick to enjoy your being-at-homeness. You know, when you can drink tea and read in bed and catch up on great films you've been meaning to watch. The kind of sick I am right now, when you are coughing every 4.5 seconds and can barely get motivated to lift the remote...and where blogging this short paragraph has taken waaaaaay too long....this kind stinks. I may as well be at work.
Ok that's my theory. More on why Grand Marnier is better than Nyquil later.

FINALLY!

This calls for a second blog post!

2007 so far...

...is odd. I submit the following as evidence of its oddness:

My computer at work keeps randomly re-starting itself.

Most played CD so far this year: "King" by T.I. (yeah, the rapper).

I'm strangely extremely bothered by a recent mistake at work (something about a photo in a publication that was labelled Mt. Kenya when it was actually in Nepal).

I'm also strangely *extremely* bothered by the fact that no sooner had 2007 rolled in that I got an email from Illuminations advertising their Valentine's Day candles. Seriously, on 1/1/07

I've imbibed more tea than coffee.

I actually enjoyed "Clerks 2" more than "Clerks."


So there ya have it.