brain jury out on this one

When you have nothing to do, you're either in trouble or you will be soon. Don't hesitate my friend or trouble will arrive saying, "Sorry I took so long. I came as soon as I heard you calling."

Yep. You brought this on yourself. And the only way to side-step this self-made pile of poo is by jumping in the middle of it. Of course, you could avoid the whole mess by lying down and rolling around in it. Alternatively, you could keep yourself nice by taking a run-up and launching yourself into this smelly slippery slide. And if you think this advice is also on the nose, what were you expecting? See how you're complicit now?

Just say, I come back to work and you all prefer the new brain-injured-Grant. While that might be good for my career, how am I meant to take it when my good-old-Loyola workmates say, "Hey Grant, that hit on the head has made you more [insert adjective here]."? Imagine if new-Grant could teach year 12 Physics and explain the benefits of a native garden to the boss. But, what if half my students preferred old-Mr-Morgan? An election-style campaign could ensue.

Now I could keep writing this gibberish while I wait for the next nurse to ask if I've had a bowel motion today...but...perhaps the essence of truth here is not the dignity of the human poo-poo-wee-wee (despite it being a wasted resource). No, the lesson here is the divine distractedness of human goldfish.

(Written in room 31 at North East Rehab, Ivanhoe, two weeks after bike accident with a kangaroo.)