Thursday, 20 September 2012

An Apple A Day

When I sat down at one of the tables in my work canteen at lunchtime on this dreary Thursday morning in a pointlessly rain-soaked country, Wetsoks eyed me suspiciously over her box of fruit for a few minutes without saying anything. Eventually, she made a tentative enquiry.

Wetsoks: Um. Did you do something to your hair?

Me: Yes.

Wetsoks: Did you.... dye it?

Me: Yes. Last Thursday.

Wetsoks: (poking at the fruit box) Eww, apple. I don't like apple.

Me: Also, I had it cut. Last Tuesday.

Wetsoks: It looks different. 

Me: That's because it is.

Wetsoks: At least I noticed. Eventually. I don't like apple.

Me: You're such a dude. And for goodness sake, don't eat the apples if you don't like them.

Wetsoks: (stil eyeing my hair and putting a piece of apple into her mouth slowly) I don't like change.

Me: Technically you've been getting used to it for a week, you just didn't know it.

Wetsoks: (chewing the apple) I don't like change or apples.

Me: (pinching my nose and sighing) You know, sometimes I feel like we inhabit entirely different universes and then every day around 12:30, they collide for a few minutes resulting in total mental chaos.

Wetsoks: .... What?

Me: I'm glad we're friends.


  1. I don't like apple. Or change.

  2. STOP. EATING. IT. THEN. *exasperated wailing and gnashing of teeth*