Went to get the paint for my room today. Disha couldn’t come because her mother was pissed off about something and made her stay in to help her with the housework. (At least that’s one thing the MC wouldn’t even consider! She learned her lesson the time she made me do the vacuuming and the Hoover caught fire.) There was this V OBNOXIOUS man on the bus who told me off because I was talking to Disha on my mobe. I couldn’t believe it! He said I should get a life instead of spending my parents’ hard-earned money telling my friends I was on a bus. I told him I already had a LIFE, and it included being part of the age of communication, and that he was the one who should get a life instead of butting in on someone’s private conversation. People are TOO MUCH! Really. It’s no wonder the sensitive suffer.
Stopped at the bookshop on the way home. I reckoned this would be a good time to read one of the books Ms Staples is always talking about. Deep, meaningful, angst-filled modern classics are her speciality. I got The Outsider by Albert Camus because Ms Staples says he was into the absurdness of life, and because I definitely identify with the title (the Spiritually and Creatively Gifted are always on the outside, aren’t they?). And also because it was about three thousand pages shorter than Ulysses (another of Ms Staples’s favourites).