Drainage Duty.

Drainage Duty.

Don't chide me for a lack of original material...what follows is an e-mail message I've just sent to a friend (which has failed to be delivered); I thought that it'd make some light reading, so...here it is. Also, I'm turning word verification on. Apparently it helps in getting rid of unwanted comments (the spamful ones). Since nobody reads this crap, it shouldn't be that hard. Enjoy!
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I’m not claustrophobic. At least I don’t think I am. Earlier this evening, when playing football, I accidentally kicked the ball into this drainage area; basically, it’s a drain that cascades downwards into this small pool of water, and then this water gets transported down a narrow chute which crosses beneath the road to the other side. Usually, the ball would be kicked into the area on the other side, making it a lot easier to extract (as the drain continually descends into another small pool of water).

However, in my case, the ball found its way through the narrow chute, caught in the middle and underneath the road. Not a lot of fun. I tried fitting inside the chute (I barely fit) and realized that I couldn’t rescue the poor ball. I had to get home and grab one of the long bamboo sticks that my family once used to hang clothes upon.

I then went back down into the chute, squatting, and with the stick in my hand. I slowly inched my way towards the ball, and tried to roll the ball back with extending the stick to the maximum length that I could. It didn’t work; after a few attempts, I was gently wading the water behind it to flow slightly forwards, pushing it further down the chute. I then had to go down on my hands and knees…what choice did I have? It saved time, and it made things a lot easier.

Though that smell…….ewwwww.

Once I finally returned the ball to the field, there was no applause. There were no cheers, no fanfare. Nobody even said “thank you”. Life returned to normal, and the ball was kicked around, it’s heroic savior drenched in drain-doo and odors. And to add to it all, I’m also sick at the moment…I was sick before the ball got kicked into the trench, and I’m still sick despite having taken a Panadol. My phlegm has that “heaty” yellow/red tinge to it. I thought that I felt better this morning, but, alas…it hasn’t improved.

Speaking of which, I woke up at half past dawn today and played video games for the majority of the morning and afternoon. Then some friends came over and I was soundly thrashed (and thrashing them) over a few rounds of FIFA. I love weekends, though I really should start catching up on reading (though at the back of my head, I know that it’s something I do exclusively during weekdays).

So here I am, at home, on a Saturday night. I crave a Double Cheeseburger from the Golden Arches, yet I don’t really understand why. Pickles, I guess. I love the pickles that they put in the burgers…my view is that they just wouldn’t do without them, though the majority of the people I know dislike the taste. What’s your view on it? I guess that it’s somewhat of an acquired taste, though I can’t understand why it isn’t the default preference for most of my friends.

Oh, well.

To pickles.