New tricks

I cannot believe it. I slept through the alarm AGAIN this morning. My tricky, cunning, LYING brain knew I would not be fooled by the 'just five more minutes' thing so soon after the last time, so it came up with a new trick. It climbed out my ear, shaped itself into a finger, turned off the alarm, climbed back into my head, and turned on some really interesting dreams. It was a fabulous trick. I did not wake up.

The Man woke me up instead, half an hour later. "It's six o'clock," he said. "Aren't you supposed to be getting up?"

I did the levitating thing again.

"I'M SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE 6.33 TRAIN!" I shouted, and he cringed.

I got that train. AND I got a seat. I win!

Getting a stomach virus in your first week back at work is NOT a good idea, I've decided. It makes you even tireder than you'd normally be in your first week back at work (which is PRETTY DAMNED TIRED, in case I hadn't mentioned it before).

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On the way home today a colleague and I were sitting waiting for the train. A large woman sitting near us was hitting herself in the face repeatedly. She obviously had some sort of mental problem, and the hitting was hard and looked quite painful.

This reminded me of a joke, which was very insensitive of me, I know. (I was going to insert an excuse for my insensitivity there, but I'm too tired to bother.)

"Did I ever tell you the joke about why Roman Catholics are so glad Jesus Christ was crucified?" I asked my colleague.

"No," she said, looking expectant. (She was brought up RC.)

"Oh. Well, I've just realized I can't tell you right now either, because it's one of those jokes you have to DO, and it would look as though I was mocking that woman," I said.

We sat for a moment in silence. We were both exhausted.

Then I had a thought.

"No, wait - she can HELP me tell the joke," I said. "It will be less painful for me."

(Politically correct people should stop reading now.)

"It goes like this," I said. "Roman Catholics are pleased that Jesus was crucified because they get to do this."

I made the sign of the cross, and my friend looked puzzled.

"You see, if he'd been stoned," I said, "they'd have to do that."

I nodded towards the woman, who was still hitting herself in the face vigorously.

I almost wish this hadn't worked quite as well as it did. I am still feeling guilty for using a mentally disturbed person as a joke prop.

(However, because it worked so well I would probably do it again. It was worth it to see my tired friend laugh, and besides, how often do you get an opportunity like THAT?)