Taking Stock – The Stories Never Really End

Here’s a little ‘Taking Stock’ style post, I’ve never done one. There has never been a need to. Now the need has a risen. I’d like to update you guys on a few things concerning a couple of previous posts, but none of the updates is substantial enough to stand on its own as a post so here we are.

I shall back-track in chronological order.

From ‘Childlike Humanity’, remember I said I would try and smile and greet the watchies I walk past every morning? Well, in true Kathleen fashion, which is also just human fashion, when push came to shove, I chickened out. It was much easier to just keep walking and pretending like I do not see them every morning, like they do not see me every morning. I was slowly letting myself get back into that comfortable rut where I use an incident in my life to give the blog-osphere out there something to think about that will possibly make them change one little thing in their daily routine and then not take my own advice.

That was until this morning.

Usual walk, my eyes happened to meet with one of the watchies on my route. An agreeable looking old man who is always wearing a big black jacket, a kabuti. Our eyes met accidentally, I had not intended it having made peace with being a hypocrite in this sense. I diverted mine immediately. Then quickly talked myself into just smiling. ‘Just a smile Kathleen, just a smile!’ So I looked back in his direction and smiled.

He did the rest. He smiled back. He bid me good morning. He even went so far as to comment on the fact that this morning I was walking past him a little later than usual and asking if I was late. Thus, acknowledging the fact that for the past 10 months we have been ignoring each other. Needlessly. That old man has single-handedly made my day. I got to work so happy, inexplicably and infectiously happy and I did not know exactly why until I started writing this.
A smile costs nothing! So glad they’re free, I’m making a mental note to spend them boundlessly.

From ‘Kat and the Cats’, the cat that was stalking me has now become somewhat of a fixture at our household. We still keep the door that keeps it outside closed but now it even has a bowl of its own, outside this said door. When I got home yesterday, I asked my mother if she had named the latest addition to our household yet. My mum seems to still be in mild denial. We have set out a bowl for it. We refill this bowl regularly with food. It seems to have made a home for itself under my mother’s car. It no longer wanders far, dumpster diving and trying its luck at other households. Yet my mother still insists it is not ours. We shall not name it.

It is only a matter of time in my opinion. In the meantime, I shall call it Cat, with a ‘C’ of course, to clearly differentiate it from Kat, with a ‘K’, cause that’s me.

From ‘The 7th Floor Bathrooms’, I have discovered a new flaw with one of the bathroom stalls. One of those with no windows. I went in there for a routine visit a week or two ago, flushed the toilet and the flushing button stayed put! It did not bounce back like it normally does, like it is supposed to. Water just kept spewing out. In those two seconds where I over-thought everything there is to over-think, I thought of my friend Mwende who champions the UN Sustainable Development Goal #6: Clean Water and Sanitation. I remembered her urging me and a couple of our other friends to fill in a form that would help us determine what our water footprint is as a starting point to being more conscious about our use of water. I thought about how I had never filled in that form to know my water footprint but whatever it was, this incident was making it larger and larger with every litre of water that spewed out of the toilet and down the…toilet. I wondered if the whole bathroom would eventually flood. In the case that it did, did I want to be known as the girl who flooded the women’s bathroom? I considered waiting until there was no movement outside and making a run for it, getting back to the office and to my desk and waiting for someone else to discover the flood in the women’s bathroom on 7th floor. Then, when my reason finally managed to reign in my imagination, I tinkered a little with that flushing button and discovered that it was not rocket science to un-stick it from where it had gotten stuck. My day continued.

From ‘Sam’s Jacket’, I am happy to report that Sam and his jacket were reunited. I suspect it felt so good. I actually have all of you to thank, all of you who are mutual friends of Sam and I. As well as those who are not, thanks for reading. Those who are mutual friends, when Sam and I finally talked, he told me about all the different people that had scolded him for not picking up my calls and replying to my messages. Thanks for looking out for me guys. He was also very happy to hear about all the good work his jacket had been doing while not in his possession. I suppose for him, reading that post must have felt like learning about the secret life of his jacket.

If you think about it, all the inanimate objects we possess and that surround us have stories, even if we may not think so. I think about such things. Which is how I end up writing whole posts about the different personalities of toilets or the adventures of jackets.

Until our next correspondence…



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  1. 1
    Nduta Njenga

    Kathleen, even after all these posts, your writing still blows me away.
    Just wondering though, if you happened to flood the toilets, would you have become the “Mourning Myrtle” of the building (without the mourning, of course)?
    *chuckles to self*

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