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In one of my regular flashes of brilliance, I seem to have taken the bottle of eye drops out of my bag, but mysteriously left the Tiger Balm in it. This means that I am protected against the dreaded December mosquito plagues that hit central London regularly, but the occasional drying of the eyes because of the air conditioning will just have to be endured.
Unfortunately I discovered this about face error because just at this moment my eyes are so dry, I can hear them scrape when I blink. Maybe I should put some Tiger Balm on them. That’d get the tear drops running in over drive. Or probably better not. I have managed in the past to accidentally apply trace amounts of irritant to sensitive spots. Can’t say I enjoy the sensation, personally. The great chilli sauce debacle of 1988 still haunts my nightmares.
Given that my hands and eyes seem so dry right now, I am wondering whether this might not be part of some strange experiment as we denizens of the office block are slowly desiccated by the air conditioning as some kind of unfathomable money-saving measure. I can tackle some of the effects through regular applications of my Norwegian Formula hand cream, though the benefits of stopping my hands look and feel like greaseproof paper (remember years ago when I complained about greasy paws?) are slightly off set by the obvious glee our deputy divisional manager gets from seeing a big middle aged bloke using hand cream in the office. What can I say; I’m a 21st century guy. Anyway, if I decide to crack my knuckles, I’d like the sound of cracking not to be because of crispy skin, if it’s all the same to you.
The Christmas tree has appeared in the office foyer and one of my colleagues has strewn Christmas decorations across the office ceiling (if you can strew things across a ceiling?). It’s all very festive in a run of the mill sort of way.
I ought to do some work now before I’m too mummified to continue.
Unfortunately I discovered this about face error because just at this moment my eyes are so dry, I can hear them scrape when I blink. Maybe I should put some Tiger Balm on them. That’d get the tear drops running in over drive. Or probably better not. I have managed in the past to accidentally apply trace amounts of irritant to sensitive spots. Can’t say I enjoy the sensation, personally. The great chilli sauce debacle of 1988 still haunts my nightmares.
Given that my hands and eyes seem so dry right now, I am wondering whether this might not be part of some strange experiment as we denizens of the office block are slowly desiccated by the air conditioning as some kind of unfathomable money-saving measure. I can tackle some of the effects through regular applications of my Norwegian Formula hand cream, though the benefits of stopping my hands look and feel like greaseproof paper (remember years ago when I complained about greasy paws?) are slightly off set by the obvious glee our deputy divisional manager gets from seeing a big middle aged bloke using hand cream in the office. What can I say; I’m a 21st century guy. Anyway, if I decide to crack my knuckles, I’d like the sound of cracking not to be because of crispy skin, if it’s all the same to you.
The Christmas tree has appeared in the office foyer and one of my colleagues has strewn Christmas decorations across the office ceiling (if you can strew things across a ceiling?). It’s all very festive in a run of the mill sort of way.
I ought to do some work now before I’m too mummified to continue.