TheOttawacker

By TheOttawacker

These are three of my favourite things

Once more the day was spent with my head facing the computer screen: a translation that is truly a gift from the gods.
 
Mrs. Ottawacker went out early to pick up the pre-ordered groceries – I knew there was something I had to get up for, so managed to invent a dream where the house was burning down. Or a house in which I was located. There was a pug there, for some reason. I hate pugs. I have no idea how it could have reached into my subconscious.
 
News is good today. My uncle and aunt are both discharged from hospital – she a couple of days ago. He, yesterday. This is entirely in keeping with what I felt at the time – even though I was avoiding the old temptation of fate in saying it: he is the luckiest man alive. And the unluckiest at the same time – but mainly the luckiest.
 
Let me clarify (as I share the same fortune).
 
If there is a disaster of any kind – say an earthquake or a tidal wave or a pandemic – you can rest assured that my uncle will be involved in some way. He may be in a building that collapses, or a yacht that is caught up in the initial main wave, or catch the (purely hypothetically of course) virus. It’s a guarantee. He is capable of seeking out disaster where none exists and making it his own.
 
However, you can all be assured that the said disaster will leave him completely untouched. The earthquake could level a city and while he’d be probably a little shaken, you’d definitely find him in a little pocket of air under an arch some five days later asking if Liverpool had won or lost. The tsunami would lift him to the only place of safety; the pandemic would make him sick but draw attention to the fact that the Type 1 diabetes he had had since 1971 was out of kilter and needed stabilizing… hypothetically, of course.
 
I am very relieved and happy and will speak to him tomorrow.
 
Meanwhile, back at home, I had my head stuck in the translation again, while at least Ottawacker Jr. had his mother to take care of him today. Horrible day of work where I was incapable of seeing anything other than a literal translation. I’m translating into French which requires a certain amount of lateral thinking, but normally I am OK at doing it. Not today. My 2500 words/day became 950. Brain dead would be a kind description.
 
Fortunately, Mrs. Ottawacker came to the rescue with her famous and superb chicken curry. And to top it all, I was able to eat outside with my family for the first time since September: chicken curry, my family, red wine. These are a few of my favourite things.

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