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Fuck Politeness

This is a revolution, not a public relations movement

I’m sick – I have a fever. I keep forgetting. When I’m home and still/quiet it feels ok. I do 20 minutes of housework and then I need to lay down. I head out and by the time I get to the local shops I’m ready for a nap.

I went to Coles this afternoon. It was busy. No music. Eery silence. I hate that, it feels creepy. Everyone scurrying like ants to collect their food.

I stare at my sunglasses – where to put them, hands full…I decide to put them on my shirt. One arm falls off. (Of the glasses, not mine). I laugh and say to the lady watching me ‘Well I guess I’m not putting them on my shirt then’. She looks at me quizzically. I forget you’re not supposed to interact in these spaces.

I’m there with my list and I’m getting hot and nauseous and ‘woozy’ and I can’t find the coconut milk and it seems like this task will defeat me and dammit I HATE being defeated by things I *know* I can handle.

I walk up aisles, and down aisles. I frown. I mutter. I mutter within earshot hoping for some assistance, but I guess you don’t wanna offer assistance to the clammy looking woman muttering angrily to herself about something that sounds like ‘fucking coconuts’.

I keep at it until the fevery tired overwhelmed feeling leads me to want to break the eery ordered silence by throwing my head back, opening my mouth and yodelling desperately “WHERE IS THE GODDAMNED COCONUT MILK???”.

I resist.

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