Today I dealt beautifully with a grumpy person and had my first taste of blood in ages. No – the two weren’t linked, in case that’s what you were thinking!
I was on my way somewhere and while I was waiting for my train (like I said – if only the turning-into-a-bat thing was true!), I decided to pop into the shop in the station entrance to get a drink and investigate their magic and sparkle…
So, I’m clutching my fruit juice (avoid orange juice in this weather – for all its vitamin C, it encourages mucus. Not cool), and I queue up. In front of me is an old dear surrounded by plastic bags, one of which topples over in front of me and threatens to spill its contents all over my feet. I pick it up and re-balance it for her.
At which point this woman turns around and glares at me with all the fury of hell and damnation in her eyes. She snatches the bag and rustles it into position in front of me. I try to explain what I was doing. Again the hell-glare. Normally, I’d be tempted to harrumph or say “Whatever” and glare back. But today something different happened. Something assertive. Before I knew it, the words popped out of my mouth: “I apologise”, said the words; “I meant no offence.”
Her head went down and she muttered something. The cashier’s bell went. It was her turn. With a softer hell-glare (possibly a limbo glare instead) she mutters to me “You better go first”. I thanked her, paid for my juice and got the heck out of Dodge.
Normally I’d spend the next half hour working out how I could have handled the situation better (vampires are not exactly known for their social skills, and I am no exception). Not today. I knew I had handled it perfectly. And then, I just got on with my day…
Now to the other good thing of the day… How can I describe it, the taste of fresh blood…? Imagine you’ve been caught in freezing, torrential rain. You’re soaked. You’re wracked by the bone-snapping intensity of the cold. You have to trudge three miles to get home. When you do, you get into a fabulously hot shower, which washes every scrap of cold, every ache, every shiver, away.
Then you follow it up with a steaming bowl of your favourite soup, which slides down your throat like a silken balm of warmth and goodness. Blood tastes like a combination of the shower and the soup. Just like this did. Not too salty (good news for the blood pressure); not too sweet (useful as I’ve avoided the family curse of diabetes) and not too metallic… Drat. Anaemia. Okay, so it was my blood, alright? Don’t get freaked out. Or grossed out. Or both.
It’s quite simple. I was on the train. I felt blood trickling down my face. Turns out I had at some point during the journey caught my face with my nails (which I’ve been growing for a party. I don’t know why, but…). The talons thing that I skirted around before? Well, that’s the main reason why I keep my nails so short… When they grow, they are incredibly strong and quite dangerous, to be honest! I’d give Lady Deathstrike something to think about… Anyway, back to the cleanup operation. I checked in my pockets. No tissue. I checked in my bag. No anything. So what was I supposed to do? I simply scraped it off my face and er, ‘disposed of it thoughtfully’. All that means is that no one on the commuter train home was subjected to my accidental facial haemorrhaging. Oh, and that I’m anaemic. Again. Apricots and A+ juice it is for me then…
Obviously, this time next week will be Boxing Day, and you’ll all have something better to do and read about my ramblings. Hopefully the day will find you happy and contented. If not, then may you find joy. I will be thinking of you, and I will not be the only one.
Have a wonderful Christmas. See you all in the New Year!
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