I never thought I would say this, but I rather envy Generation Why. Despite their zero attention span, the belief that the world owes them everything and their ability to program in C++ from kindergarten, I found tonight that I wished I could be one of them.
(Reading this back, it might be the antibiotics talking here...)
This morning I trudged off to the doctor. Their surgery is located on a hill I normally run up without blinking. Hmmm. Got to the door without much breath left and I scowled at Penny the receptionist when she told me to go upstairs. I had the normal conversation with the doctor. Yes, I have a minor bout of bronchitis. Yes, my temperature is up a little. No, my glands and ears are fine. She congratulated me on the weight loss and fitness and getting the blood pressure down naturally. As expected I was told to go home, go to bed, drink your fluids and take the pills.
And orders have been followed to the letter.
So, after a day of job hunting from bed, making the odd call, watching half a season of Grey's Anatomy and cuddling the cat (the perfect sick day really) one of my training buddies called to say she was popping around. Could she bring anything? Of course, I told her. Bring ice cream. Just one. I'm ill. I'm breaking ranks for a day - though nothing too badly. One ice cream won't hurt. I've stayed in the parameters of clean and healthy food today - just had a little more than normal. I'm ill - it's allowed.
So just after seven, around she comes. Maxibon in her hand (can't say thank you enough for this - perfect). She pops herself down on the couch, shoves the cat's blanket over her lap and grabs Maow. And we have a chat.
There's lots going on in her life. We talked about that. There's quite a bit going on in mine. We talked about that too. She had a cuddle of the Maow Maow. To be expected.
We then got into a discussion about the best place to buy vibrators and the ethics of Brazillian waxing.
I'm not a prude. Far from it. But my Gen X sensibilities normally restrict me from discussing the virtues of snatch waxing. And as for vibrators. Normally, I'd be looking at the ceiling, whistling, trying to disappear.
What freedoms to Gen Why-ers have? Why don't we, a decade older, and possibly two wiser, have the perceived leisure to talk about this stuff? Or maybe it's just my polite group of friends.
Okay, sorry, Brazillian waxes I just don't get. Why would an adult woman want to look twelve down there? Take most of it off - sure, but leave a bit to prove you're a real woman and so your bits don't get cold.
As for the vibrator discussion - um - like why would anybody actually want to go to a megastore called Sexyland? I had to challenge this. I thought everybody in the district knew that the best erotica shop in Richmond is Passionfruit in Bridge Road (followed by Bliss on Lonsdale Street - if it's still there). Female friendly shops, no blackened windows or men in raincoats about - just open, tasteful, friendly and fun.
I didn't mention to her that there was always mail order. Down Under Toys do mail order and they're all made of surgical silicone and have detatchable battery packs, so you can boil them up after use. And the only reason I know this is because I interviewed the owner a few years ago for a course I was doing. Seriously.
On her way out, she said she might have to go have a look at these shops. And why not? She's Gen Why. Gen X-ers would never admit to this sort of stuff.
And I only know about this stuff because I'm the "Suppository of All Knowledge" as an old workmate used to call me. Better than wikipedia, I am, he reckoned.
Just as I know where you can find smudge sticks, obstetricians, Jedi Priests, men who balance oil rigs and the odd proctologist - doesn't mean I know everything.
Looking back, did I really have this conversation tonight?
Or is the tetracycline the doctor is feeding me just an Illuminati plot to put holes in my brain.
Best get to bed to sleep all this off - have yet another interview tomorrow - don't want to cough all over the person grilling me.