If you're trained to be at peak performance at all times, like me, you might be thinking, "Hey! Am I desk warming correctly?" Or if you ever worked a day in your life you might also be thinking, "Shit! That heavy course load and part time job in university really put me on the wrong track." As a follow up you might say, "I wish there was some sort of litmus test to make sure I'm going about this the right way." Well there's not, because desk warming has very little to do with pH levels. Unless you meant litmus test in that other way it's sometimes used, in which case, let's dive in.
First, second and thirdly, how often have you checked facebook in the last minute? Take that number, times it by 3 and add 42 - now we've got something to aspire to! Check on that old aunt of yours, has she deliberately ignored the spell check in her status updates? It's not 'Chateau Briand,' god Lynda. Try finding people you don't know, but might like in real life. Find one picture that changes your mind. Curse out people who have their privacy settings too high for your days work. Follow every link you can get your mouse on.
Next, let's take a look at your mouse hand. Does it feel cool to the touch because the blood can't get up through your carpel tunnel wrist? Perfect, you're doing great. How's your back? I hope you're rocking a good hunch. Your eyes should be nice and strained, maybe a touch of bloodshot for good measure. Ever heard of secretary's ass? Me neither, till it snuck up behind me one day. It basically disproves Newton's stupid laws about things at rest, because I've been resting the hell out of my ass but it still keeps moving in a horizontal direction.
Finally, let's take a look under the hood; how are you doing emotionally? Self worth at an all time low? Frequent thoughts about wasting your life away? Did you accidentally look at an inspirational poster that read, "What will your memoir say about today?" in classy graphic design font with a sunset or a waterfall or a bird learning to fly with only one wing. Or maybe you read an article about the Top 20 Under 20 Sassypants of the Year and realized you've never even organized a single Walk-a-thon to Cure Something Incurable. Shhh....it's okay. Go look at your bank account. It's nice isn't it? And like those incurable diseases it doesn't matter what you do, it'll always be there for you. That's how you know you're desk warming right.
Homeplus started carrying canned beans - huzzah! I can never plan the time to soak dried beans, and now I don't have to! Way to facilitate my laziness Homeplus, now I can make bean burgers at on a whim! Like a crazy person!
1 can kidney beans (or whatevs kind of beans you have) drained, rinsed and mashed
half an onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsp flour
Mix it all together, it'll be a little gloopy, but you can just drop it into a pan and flatten it out and it'll fry into a little burger.
The salad is tomato, corn and orange pepper with olive oil and red wine vinegar.
My shoes were broken and because I have flipper size feet they can't easily be replaced, so I took them to be repaired by a man who works in a little hut by my bus stop. He fixed them while I waited, and ten minutes later my hooves were covered again. He held up two fingers, to which I said, "Ee chun won?" "Ahhh, hangul!" he replied and then we had a short back and forth about the usual small talk things. But then he said something that was outside my limited vocabulary so he got a paper and wrote it out, in case I could understand better by reading, I suppose. But I couldn't, so I got out my trusty cell phone dictionary and typed it in.
I should have known that, it was on a verb list I studied once upon a time. "No, ajoshi, not married. I have boyfriend." Then he started speaking again and making weird circular hand gestures and pointing at me. Hmmm, soccer ball? No. Pregnant? No. So again he gets out the pen, writes it down, and I type it in my phone.
Ajoshi wants to know if I'm a virgin.
He can see that something has come up on my phone and he's now waiting for my answer.
Post script: the shoes broke again the next day. Let this be a lesson to all the cobblers out there: maybe spend a little more time with the shoe goo and a little less time worrying about my hymen.
Sometimes my kids write me letters about how pretty my yellow hair is, or how small my head is, or how good at English I am, and I love it, I love them all. They usually have little drawings of a girl who's supposed to be me, with dimples and a ponytail. But once in a while a very special one comes along that screams, "BAM! THIS IS WHAT I THINK YOU LOOK LIKE, OKAY?"
Why do I have so much upper head? And those ears! Are my ears really like that? What a long, t-shaped nose I have. I love it.