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Milk and sugar

I accompanied my dad to the hospital as he underwent cataract surgery. After the operation, while my dad awaited being discharged, a nurse with a Belfast accent asked us if we wanted some tea. Yes, we said. We’d love some. Milk or sugar? she asked. Milk but no Sugar for me, Sugar but no Milk for my dad, said I. Huh? I’ll take milk but no sugar. My dad will take sugar but no milk, please. I’m sorry, what? I like my tea with milk but without sugar. My dad wants it the other way around. Errrrrrrrrr…... After about ten minutes, the conversation had descended to the following: Small man glug glug milky, Big man glug glug sweety! You’re making this very difficult, she said. Two teas with milk and sugar please, I finally said. Okay, she said. In the end, nobody was happy.
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Gum

I am a civilised man. When I have had my fill of chewing a piece of gum, I choose to dispose of it in a bin. Today was no different. I wanted to be rid of the gum, I saw a bin in the distance and I walked to it. Upon arrival, I remembered that it is not polite to spit in public. So I held the gum between my teeth and lifted it from there using my index finger and thumb. I glided my hand from my mouth to the bin and parted my fingers. The gum held on to my thumb for dear life. Shaking my hand didn't budge it one bit. Pulling it with the other hand only added to the scale of the tragedy. I could describe the farce in more detail over drinks one day. But I will just say that even now, a few hours later, I am still rubbing out bits of gum from between my fingers, palm, shirt sleeve and the hairs of my wrist. Next time, I'll spit.
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City life

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