Shoulder to the wheel

Yesterday was excruciating. I am grateful for two things, though. Yesterday brought me 24 hours closer to retirement or death (whichever comes first) and barring Groundhog Day-style time loops, I won’t ever have to live through it again.

On my way home, as I threaded my scooter through the traffic, I thought, “If I become bus-fodder right now, it won’t be so bad. I’ve lived a good life, after all. I don’t feel that I’ve missed out on anything and I’ll have a really good excuse for not showing up at the office tomorrow. I hope they don’t have meetings in the afterlife.”

By this time, I had reached Campground Road. My thoughts of personal mortality as means for taking time off work were diverted by the spectacle in the Land Rover ahead of me. In the back, there was a German Shepherd cross that looked exactly like a Womble. Anyone remember the Wombles? It wasn’t long before the Womble saw me and became a Womble with teeth, which was both hilarious and scary at the same time. I suppose the modern equivalent would be something like a Tellytubby with an assault rifle. It’s these random examples of weirdness that make living in Cape Town such fun.

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