Rule No.84: Don't just nod and smile if you can't understand someone (unless that's your only option)

It's funny how clever our bodies can be, isn't it?

I set my alarm for an hour earlier than usual on Tuesday as I had lots to do that day. However, I turned it off in my sleep (not so clever) and woke up naturally at my normal time (clever). I was quite proud of myself for waking up and not being late for work, but annoyed at the same time that I wasn't going to be early. 

How did I turn my phone off in my sleep though? Obviously it was likely that I was awake, but just too tired whilst doing it to remember doing it. The point is, how did my body know to wake up an hour later at exactly the same time that I usually get up? 

It baffles me. 

Just like every morning when I get to my desk and type in my password to log in to my computer. I do it without even thinking. Yet, if someone asked me what my password was, I wouldn't know. I'd just get confused with all of my other millions of passwords, and I'd have to spend a good half an hour trying to work it out. However, my fingers seem to know what it is every single morning.

 

You know exactly what I'm going on about don't you!?

In other news, I went to the hairdressers yesterday after work so I am now free of split ends. I was really looking forward to sitting and relaxing with a coffee and a biscuit whilst getting my haircut. However, two things were wrong with this, 1) I didn't get given any sugar with my cappuccino 2) I didn't get a biscuit.

Now, I know I work in Soho, where most people live on smoothies and curly kale. And I know I shouldn't really have sugar in my coffee, never mind a biscuit on the side - especially as I'd already consumed four custard creams throughout the day. But, my ideal haircut experience was shattered. 

To make the haircut experience slightly more irritable, my hairdresser who was a very cute Italian guy would not stop talking. I don't think he stopped for breath for at least an hour. To make matters worse, I couldn't understand a word he was saying. At one point I wondered if he thought I was Italian and was actually speaking to me in Italian.

I nodded a lot, laughed a lot and pulled a shocked face in the places I thought were appropriate (I basically just copied his expressions). Yet, this wasn't 100% successful as I had a couple of awkward moments. For example, when I realised he had asked me a question as he paused for a while and stared at me for an answer. I don't think my answer was correct or even slightly related, but I'm pretty sure I managed to blag it. Either that or he was just being polite. 

Another horrific moment occurred when he pushed my head forward slightly so he could cut the back of my hair. I looked down and noticed my knees in the mirror... It was a very long mirror that went down to my ankles so the 'mirror ledge' was really low down, which meant I had to reach rather far for my sugarless cappuccino (I could probably have done with the extra stretch anyway - that counts as exercise, right?). Back to my knees. I couldn't help but realise they looked like raw sausages in tights. I have therefore discovered that I don't have any knees, they're just raw sausages that bend. 

I've now Googled exercises to get skinny knees. Apparently leg extensions, squats, lunges and step-ups are the best way to get them. I will therefore walk up the escalator in tube stations more often and I'm going to lunge when I walk around the office.

I may also sit like this at my desk:

 

Not sure how I would type though.

I'm going to leave you with tonight's tube experience... As I was writing the hairdresser scenario out on my phone I didn't realise but I had gently placed my hand on top of a young gentleman's hand. There was about five hands holding on to the same germ infested pole and for some reason his hand felt rather 'pole like' for a few seconds. To make matters worse I didn't think to say sorry and instead I just looked at him and moved my hand away slowly. None of this was on purpose, but I ended up looking like I was flirting outrageously, where really I was just too busy typing to think what the hell I was doing. 

He then kept smiling at me in a creepy, I want to stroke your hair kind of way and I felt rather vulnerable. 

I have therefore come to the conclusion that hand stroking is a great pulling technique. Well I think it could be. Maybe I should test it on a guy that isn't ten years younger than me and doesn't look like he hasn't washed for over a week.

Oh and also, you'll be excited to hear I have been given the official 'desk move coordinator' role on Friday. If you hadn't of guessed we're all moving desks in the office on Friday afternoon and I am in charge of making sure we pack everything up and label it correctly. I therefore feel important.

 

Good bye x