Gingerbread Woman

fish and foolishness

My head is full of all the wrong things, I should be finishing off some work from home, trying to create a nest from a building site and making sure things like my overnight bag are sorted. Instead I'm dreaming of fish and making a man at work think I have mental health issues.

The fish in particular that's occupying my brain is an origionally named specimen, Goldie. He's actually a koi rather than a goldfish, which basically in his case means he's like a goldfish but a lot bigger. He's got a bad mouth. Fish pond man (who despite being notified of leaking pond and promising to show up to resolve the problems he's 'fixed' twice now, has been notably nowhere), said last time I needed some anti-groth stuff. Off I dutifully popeed to fish supply shop, yet still, Goldie's growth grows. He's a poor fish indeed now, unable to do that 'boob' 'boob' thing his species are so famed for. There was a point last week when he floated so lethargically that any outcome bar the flat on his back, eyes up to fish heaven seemed a remote dream. Then, with a slug of fresh water added to the pond, he perked up and fueled my 'go fighter fish' admiration. Now howeever his mouth is so sore that he's stopped eating, plus he seems to have some kind of wound on his fin. His pond mates are all verging on instant obesity as I keep throwing little pinches of fish food in his path in the hope he'll make it to a pellet, and bigger clumps elsewhere in the pond to distract the healthy fish from the food with his name on. He nearly makes it, gets to the surface, sees the pellet, sometimes sums up the energy to head towards it then, 'wham' either a better fed fish beats him to it or swims nearby blowing his fading frame off course.

He's going to die despite all his progress and knowing it, waiting for it, has obviously pervaded my subconscious. Last night's sleep was filled with images of goldie in various states of rigour mortis.

Awake, i'm contemplating a range of strategies, like moving him to a pond water with some hand dredged slime for familiarity filled bucket so he can feast in peace. But I suspect having watched him grab one tiny pellet last night that actually the food is proving hard to swallow with all the swelling round his mouth. Please fish pond man, show and know.

Honestly, here I am, the proud exclaimer of 'fish are really not my thing', several times this week, traumatised by the plight of the poor fellow. Must be the Aquarian in me.

Meanwhile the goldfish pond is hemorraging at an ever faster rate. Luckily I've been lent a (legal for fish ponds I'm assured) hosepipe, so the bucket trekking is over. Sadly, I'm not sure that so much fresh water is good for the fish and I now need to go find some special stuff that apparently makes it easier for them to adjust to being in a refilled environment at least twice a day.

On the warmer blooded front, there's a man from work I want to get to know. He's a man who's impressed me by being incredibly kind and having vats of integrity. Now, were he a woman, I'd just have got to know him, but as you know, I'm spectacularly rubbish at being relaxed around most hetrosexual men, and whilst this guy has nothing threatening about him whatsoever, I seem incapable of just being me around him. The inevitable conclusion to be drawn from this is that I have a crush. Which I haven't ruled out, but on many levels that seems wrong, he's, even for someone as unwedded to a 'type' as I am, not it. Or maybe I've just grown up and started to realised that looking like Mr Depp or a member of a boy band, is much less sexy than being a decent human being.
I haven't decided. And in fact, have no idea whether deciding is even something I'm ever likely to have the privildge of doing. He may not be single, or, if he is, he may decide that a heavily pregnant bisexual woman with a house full of holes and an fish obsession, is a very bad bet.
What I do know is that even if I don't have a crush, and it is just that I like him, I want him around. Maybe I'm so wedded to the idea because my circle is so female dominated and I want Freddie to know a few more lovely men than I do. Or maybe it's the eerily erotic dreams I keep having about this guy that is making my brain go wirey.

Anyway, I decided to just go for his friendship and take it from there, but I think I went for it a tad too enthusiastically and he now thinks I'm nuts.

This is not new, this is a lesson I should have learnt by now, I keep hoping that one day, someone will come along who goes 'exhurberance, marvellous' rather than 'lunatic, leggit' at the let's just get to know each other stage when I do brave and uncensored. I think I'm so nurtured by folk who know and love me that I forget those who don't, don't, and then by not moderating myself I overdose them. I feel like the problem I have is being my balanced self, either I'm none of me and a tongue tied idiot, or so much of me that the none of me seems more appealing.

It's all a tad embarrassing, given I work with this guy and that most of my friends at work are his friends too. I'm contemplating sending a 'sorry, should be more temperate' email, or even a 'damn, so easily scared' but know Ailsa would scream 'just leave it woman' so I've parked that thought until at least the end of next week. On the up side, I'm out of the office now and will have plenty of other stuff going on to distract me from my own blushes.

posted by The Gypsy @ 10:05 pm