6 Nov 2009
It's a Mystery to Me.
I have decided that I use too much punctuation. Apparently some people get intensely irritated by the over exuberant punctuating of sentences, and so in this post I am going to pander to their base desires and use only the minimum required for legibility. Accordingly, you will see no dash; no exclamation mark, and especially not three in a row; no artificial smiley face; and no triple dot glyph, or ellipsis to give it its proper name. You will see parentheses, full stops, commas and apostrophes because I still want you to be able to read what I am saying, though.
So what do you think? Already I'm feeling a bit like Eeyore. Morose, melancholy and blue. That's what a lack of exclamations does to a girl like me. Actually, many people also dislike repetition for effect, so please disregard the previous sentence. Of the three words written there I shall choose Morose. The lack of punctuation is making me feel morose. I am not even smiling. That is strange for me, and combined with my eye which strangely went black for no reason yesterday morning, has resulted in Jemimah being considerably more compliant than usual. I think she is a little afraid of me. There, see? Don't you think that sentence should have ended with an exclamation mark? Please notice that I exerted considerable restraint to prevent its appearance.
Back to the eye. You can see the pictures of it above. Strange, isn't it. Now before the puns start coming, no, my husband didn't do it. He knows better than to cause bruises where anybody can see them. You know, on an area not normally covered with clothes. Okay, that was a joke. I hope you knew that, but without punctuation I need to be doubly sure. I didn't walk into a door handle either. Unless I was sleep walking of course. That is unlikely but possible. I have never sleepwalked before that I am aware of, but there is always a first time. You would think that I would have woken myself up if I had walked into a door though, wouldn't you? Especially hard enough to give myself a black eye. In common with many happily married people I also share a bed with my husband. You would anticipate that overnight antics of that type would have woken him as well. All in all, I don't this that there is a good explanation for the eye. It just went black, that's all. Of its own volition. Now that is not a sentence. It is a fragment and accordingly I should reconsider its inclusion, but upon that reconsideration I have decided to leave it. Every writer needs a signature style, and short snappy snippets along with the overuse of punctuation is mine. I can't have you thinking that somebody else is here writing my blog, can I? Oh yes, before I leave the scintillating topic of my eye, Jemimah took the photos. I considered photoshopping it to remove the wrinkles, but I haven't. There they are for you all to see. In reality the eye is considerable blacker than it looks in the photos, but otherwise I think Jemimah did pretty well. Don't you?
Along with the mystery of the eye is the mystery of the flat car battery. My car started happily enough on Wednesday night when I headed off to my Bookclub meeting, but on Thursday when I tried to take Jemimah to Little Athletics, nadda. Kaputsky. The battery was as flat as a tack. This meant a quick dash by my young athlete to the local park for Little Aths, but despite the exertion she still managed to win both of her sprints, so the added exercise didn't seem to do her much harm. Probably her mother benefited from the added exercise as well. Or perhaps it resulted in a black eye. I don't know. I don't know why the battery went flat either. I have one of those fancy modern cars that switches everything off for you when the key is removed, so I can't be blamed for leaving lights or radio or interior lights on because my clever car would have extinguished them for me after a suitable period of time had elapsed. Anyhow, the car is now at the local mechanics having its battery recharged so that I can drive it to Geelong this evening.
Yes, the Gadabout is gadding again. Not a fun trip this time though, but to visit my dear father who was admitted to hospital last night. More news on that when it comes to hand. Anyhow, I shall need my car to be reliable for the 3½ hour journey alone. My beloved is not able to join us until tomorrow.
Maybe one weekend soon I shall be able to spend it at work in my garden, which is at its spring peak just now. Would any of you like to see some pictures? I wish I could package up the scent of the roses for you as well. It is just dreamy. Especially along the driveway, which is lined with Buff Beauty roses along its length.
There is just one more mystery that I should like to share with you before I go and do something productive with my time. This final mystery involves you. Yes, you. Why is it that nobody bothers to comment on my book review posts, you know, the ones that take ages to prepare and to scan photos for and to do research on, whereas lots of people comment on the silly frivolous ones like how you punctuate a sentence that includes eleven hads in a row? I mean, who really cares about sentences like that anyhow? They're quite silly really. That post is also responsible for me now writing a post without enough punctuation in it. Enough for me anyway. Is it that you would prefer I didn't do any more book reviews? Are they boring? I can stop, only then I would need to question my purpose in writing my blog, because introducing you all to fine Australian literature is one of my most significant aims.
Ah, life. It's a mystery to me.
Have a nice weekend.