NotJustAHatStand

Coco, my little black cat, crosses my path about a hundred times a day but I've never connected this to any particular episodes of good or bad luck. I'm considering revising this opinion after this morning's events, however. According to Wikipedia, black cats can be considered both bad and good omens, depending on where you live. As I live in Scotland, where 'if a black cat crosses your path it is meant to be a definite sign of good things to come'¹, I'm going for the latter, and thanking my lucky stars for my black cat, and the protective aura she cast over me before I left my house this morning.

I was a split second away from being hit by a car on my way to work this morning.

I was at the pedestrian crossing on the main road where I live (which is a major commuter route into Edinburgh). The traffic lights were at red and the green man had just come on to signal that it was safe for pedestrians to cross. A big truck had stopped in the lane closest to the pavement, I walked in front of it and was about to step into the second lane of traffic when I looked to my right, and saw a car come flying through the red lights at a speed that suggested the driver had no idea there was even a set of traffic lights there, let alone that they were at red. I felt the breeze of the car passing about a foot in front of me. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, the car behind went through the lights as well. So if the first guy hadn't got me, the second one could have a pop too.

Both of them were going far too fast and even if they'd been paying attention to the lights there's no way they would've been able to stop. If the driver in the first car had stopped suddenly, the car behind would have smashed into him.

As I stood in the middle of the road, in shock at the close shave, the driver of the truck honked his horn at the two cars to alert them to what they had just done, but they hadn't even slowed down and they both drove off, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they'd been about a foot away from hitting a pedestrian. A pedestrian who would have HUNTED THEM DOWN AND KILLED THEM if they had ruined her upcoming wedding.

If I'd been just one or two steps in front of where I was he would've hit me full on. I keep thinking about what would've happened if I had stepped out in front of that car, and it's freaking me out. Would I have walked away unscathed? Maybe a broken leg? Fractured skull? Or would I be another statistic - one of those poor bastards that die on the road every day? Road casualties in the UK may be at an all time low, but you still hear stories in the news almost every day of someone who has lost their life on the road.

I don't know why the two cars didn't stop but I hope it was just a momentary lapse, and that they got as much of a fright as I did - maybe that will make them a bit more careful next time.

Labels: Commute, Stupid

...um. Me!

The boy called me at work today to ask what was for tea. He does this every day. My answer is always 'dunno', so it really is a pointless exercise. Except today he also wanted to remind me that we'd forgotten our anniversary again this year. Generally we remember a few days too late, both feel a bit guilty for a day or so, and then forget about it until a year later and we realise we've forgotten again. This doesn't bother me too much, because a) it's kind of traditional now and b) it's not really a REAL anniversary. I mean, it's not like it was our first date or anything. Or the first time we... you know. YOU know.

It's just the day we bumped into each other in the pub.

But when he told me this today, I had a sort of niggly feeling in my head. Like there was something else I should be remembering. It was only about half an hour ago, that I realised what it was.

Our anniversary is the day after the night I accosted him at the jukebox.

Tuesday, it was. The 16th January.

The day I posted this.

Labels: Fiance, Stupid

I made macaroni cheese for dinner tonight. I make it with red onion, course grain mustard and bacon so I always have a few saucepans on the go. Tonight, my smartness got the better of me and I had a bit of an accident. I was sauteeing the onion, whilst frying the bacon and stirring the cheese sauce, and I had the macaroni in the big saucepan, ready to be cooked once the cheese sauce was ready.

All ok so far.

So there I was, stirring my cheese sauce, and it seemed to be taking a while to come to the boil. I turned the heat up a bit to hurry it along (I was hungry and the Antiques Roadshow was on*).

Stirring, stirring, stirring. Nothing doing. I turned the heat up again.

After a couple of minutes, I started to smell something burning. I thought it was the onion. No, the onion's fine. I thought it might be the bacon. Nope, bacon's fine. It wasn't until smoke started pouring out of the big saucepan holding the dry macaroni, that I realised why my cheese sauce wasn't coming to the boil.

Yes, I came (too late) to the same conclusion that you probably came to 4 lines ago - I had the wrong gas burner on. I had the dry macaroni over the biggest gas burner, which was on a high heat. For about 10 minutes. The kitchen filled with smoke, and when I put some water into the saucepan to prevent it from catching fire, the water boiled. Straightaway.

The macaroni is black and there is a layer of it welded to the bottom of my most-used medium sized saucepan... It's currently soaking in boiling water, but I'm not holding out much hope - did you know burnt-on macaroni is like effing concrete?! Well, you do now. I tell you, it's lucky I'm here to find these things out for you - thanks to me regular readers now know that human hair can withstand a chemical bath in hair dye developing fluid, and that burnt-on macaroni can stop bullets.

And, my friends, that knowledge is priceless.

*I know, I shouldn't admit to that but I don't care - I LOVE the Antiques Roadshow!

Labels: Stupid

I tried to dye my hair last night. Not to drastically change the colour, just to give it a bit of a lift and cover up the odd grey hairs that are beginning to sprout.

According to the instructions, I applied the stuff from the bottle marked 'A', and left it for the required 25 minutes. I thought it was a bit odd that the dye didn't look like it did in the advert (piled effortlessly on top of the lady's head, held in place by it's own gloopiness), and that it didn't lather when I came to rinse it, but I thought 'never mind, how often does something look exactly like it does in the advert?'. Warning bells should have been ringing by now but my warning bells seemed to be malfunctioning last night, and I blithely carried on.

Once I'd rinsed it through I allowed myself to look in the mirror. And what colour was my hair? Exactly the same as before. This didn't worry me, as the dye was called 'Cocoa', and therefore not dramatically different from my natural colour, plus my hair was wet so it was hard to tell. 'Still,' I thought, 'surely I should see a little bit of a difference...'

Then I applied the after-dye conditioner. I thought it was silly of them to label it 'C' when I'd only just used 'A', so I checked the instructions, and there was no mention of a 'B'. My skewed logic kicked in again and I convinced myself it was a typo or they were just stupid. I left the conditioner on for the recommended 5 minutes, then rinsed again. By now my hair felt wonderfully soft and I was sure it was going to look fab when I dried it - shiny and bouncy like Davina's (Nutrisse means Nourish!). It did look shiny, but the colour? No change. Diddly squat. I felt rather cheated - I had been promised Cocoa, and I wanted Cocoa coloured shiny hair, dammit!

So I went to get the leaflet from the box and when I picked it up, was surprised at how heavy it was. How could it be so heavy when all there was inside it was empty bottles and those enormous gloves they provide (presumably so that giants don't get hair dye under their fingernails when colouring their hair)...

And then the penny finally, FINALLY dropped.

There was a full bottle in that box, containing the actual HAIR DYE. The bottle marked 'B' funnily enough.

I had missed the ENTIRE FIRST PAGE of the instructions, which explained how to mix the dye with the developer. All I had applied to my hair was the developer, and left what is presumably pure chemicals on my poor hair, formerly my crowning glory, for 25 whole minutes. At this realisation I freaked out and ran, in my knickers, to the living room where Fiance was watching TV, shouting 'Oh my god what have I done?!'. Fiance got a bit of a shock as well, poor lamb, but he managed to keep his head, and he gave me a slap to bring me to my senses (ok he didn't really, but I think he wanted to).

I didn't sleep last night because I was sure I was going to wake up bald on a pillow covered in chemically damaged hair. I didn't, thank GOD, but I'm now waiting to see if it's going to turn green.

First resolution of 2007? Read instructions carefully. TWICE.

Happy New Year dear readers.

Labels: Stupid