The First Anniversary

Dear blog,

today is your first birthday. The one year anniversary. This is post 234.
Now let's see:
234 posts in 365 days, that comes to
0.64 posts a day or
1 post every 1.56 days.

That is pretty good, I think. That is one post every 37 hours.
Please realize that at least 8 hours a day are worktime, and another 8 hours are sleeping time, plus 2 hours of eating, 2 hours of errands, 1 hour for personal hygiene etc. and 2 hours for relationship-upkeep. That leaves only 1 hour of personal spare time a day. Since we're talking one and a half day, we make that 1.5 hours, blog, do you see what I am saying?
How long does it take to write a typical blog entry? Average? Yes, about 30 minutes, sometimes longer.
So observe! 1/3 of my own valuable personal spare time, a time that is very necessary and critical in order not to drive my real-life close ones crazy, is spent on you, blog.
Does that make you happy?
I certainly hope so.

(Think of all the cakes I didn't bake because of you, think of all the friends I didn't contact because of you, yes, think of my parents, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles whom I could have phoned but did not because of you, blog!)

Today, by the way, was a crazy day at the supermarket, a day they here call "happy day". It happens once every month, it's the day everyone eligible receives/cashes their welfare cheque at the supermarket's finance counter.
And because everyone eligible her in BF means 90 percent of the population, the supermarket is busier than an ant hill. Especially on the floor.
And today I worked on the floor, yay! 7.5 hours of constant tidying up, recovering stuff, helping out people, answering questions, mopping up spills (barf, condiments, ice cream, pepsi). Children are the worst. The toy aisle needs to be done literally every 5 minutes: You pick up all the toys from the floor and you put them back where they belong, 5 minutes later the next wave of kids has run through and you can start all over. I think the thing I did most often today was putting fucking balls back into the fucking ball display.
But I like mopping up stuff. Why? Because I have to go all the way to the other end of the supermarket, into the janitor room, find a mop and one of those big yellow buckets with wheels. After filling it with water and cleaner, I put the mop into the bucket and push the whole thing all the way back to where the spill is. That takes about 1 or 2 minutes and is like driving a car: No brain functions necessary. You automatically avoid all obstacles and make your way through the aisles, brain shut off, the monotonous sound of the wheels and the splish splash of the waving water comes down like a veil or curtain between you and the trouble all around you, it's like break time, very relaxing, like floating through rush hour with activated mute-mode, like in a bubble. A feeling that even lasts into the cleaning part: you mop up the spill, that takes about 30 seconds, and then you drive all the way back to the janitor room for another great session of calmness. You leave the bucket and mop there, and then: Back out into the crazyness!

And blog, do you really think I am cheating on you with another blog? Well, I'd like to say this, I was pretty disappointed by the low number of comments regarding my announcement of breaking up with you, blog. Looks like people didn't believe me. Well, maybe they're right, now that I haven't blogged for a few days, now that I have emotionally distanced myself from you, blog, you seem much more interesting. Maybe I will use you more often than we thought I would. And you know me, it's much to bothersome to keep two of your kind.

I just don't have the time.