Rubbish. Complete and utter rubbish.

WARNING: bear with me. The third paragraph of this blog is more than a little mentally challenged. This post is an outlet for the rubbish in my head, as you will see in due time (provided you read on, and that this warning wasn't too ominous).

Some moron crashed outside our house today. (There used to be a lot more crashes, but now that there's a passing lane it's a bit better.) A police car, an ambulance and a fire engine came down the road, lights a-flashing, to the scene of the crash around ten-fifteen minutes ago. A customer told me that someone had run their car into the ditch and a truck was involved in some way. There is indeed a big blue truck with stacks of wood parked on the side of the road (and not, thank god, on its side and in the middle of a fiery pile-up)', so hopefully that means that there were minimal injuries.

Speaking of trucks, my mum and I had an interesting conversation on the way home from W(h)anganui last week. We had been picking up a greyhound from the racing track, and as Fleur (beautiful fawn thing) panted and farted away in the back of the van (greyhound farts are abominable) we discussed the strangeness of words. We were talking about how Americans, the English and New Zealanders call the same things by different names (Wellingtons-gumboots, lolly- ice block) when a truck passed and Mum said, "that's a big lorry." her hand went over her mouth and she said, "I haven't called a truck a 'lorry' for years!" while I laughed, not unkindly, at her.
Roll the word around your tounge. Say it over and over again. Doesn't 'lorry' sound like too small of a word for a thing like a truck? Lorry is small and insignificant- it almost sounds like lolly, or dolly- while truck is big and tough. 'tis very strange, the English language. The very strangest.

Another thing I have been thinking about today is the matter of time. Why is it that it takes the same amount of time to deposit a check at the bank as it does to fetch a towel from the airing cupboard and close the laundry door?
Why do certain classes go by so quickly, when others dawdle along like an elderly man with a disabled leg? It's totally baffling.
And also, answer me this: who came up with the concept of time? And why do humans feel the need to take control over something so completely not human like? Something so... uncontrollable by man, something so BIG and CELESTIAL. That may sound weird to you, but here is my reasoning:
A. It is the nature of the human race to control things. People try to control every aspect of their lives: what time they get up in the morning, what they do or don't eat, who they associate with.
B. So why not let go of restrictions? Throw away those stupid little digital watches that you all think are so fantastic! Everyone should live life without ever knowing what the time of day is. In fact, forget the goddamn date! I once went for an entire two weeks without knowing if it was the 15th or the 25th or what, and it was wonderful. It's a feeling of not caring when the next month starts, almost of not knowing where you are.
C. I want to go to Finland in Summer. That would be interesting.

Yeah. So now you know what rubbish swirls around my head at any given time of the day :3

Au revoir.