Tuesday, Two Weeks Back
The bad karma fairy has got my number.
I woke up with the residue of last night’s tears in my ears, turning my uncleaned earwax into a squelchy mess. Perhaps this is too much information, and you're not impressed. I was not impressed. But then sometimes when you’re upset, you are slightly unimpressive. A friend did something unspeakable to me, and I am humiliated, angry, and slightly shocked by my own bad judgement.
I imagine that the bad karma fairy wears broken purple wings, teamed with a purple tired shaggy seventies jacket that she picked up in a charity shop at the bottom of the Holloway Road.
My neighbour blocked my car in for the third time in as many weeks. Thoughtful is not her middle name. Also, her boyfriend practices being a DJ at 170 million decibels whenever I have a headache. I suspect he is psychic.
The bad karma fairy also has a tinselly glittery wand; a cast off from a kid who was bought it in Claire’s Accessories, but saw a better quality wand in John Lewis’s toy department.
I had so many plans to do good in the world, visit my friend’s grandma in hospital, bake a cake for a neighbour with a bad back, and also do some personal things like rewrite my list and see the Black British exhibition at the V&A, but the evil impulse reached right inside me, kneading my resolve into a demented laziness that spread over the day.
The bad karma fairy is kinda like a cross between Lucille Ball and Tabitha from Bewitched, but with technology: she has a lot of people’s numbers and she stores them in her aging mobile phone. She wishes she knew how to upgrade her contract. But then, mostly, she doesn’t call people, she just visits.
.... found this on my PC. It's kinda creative writing, kinda real. I feel better now, obviously.
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