666, 13 and 5!

Ha-ha. I noticed that my last post was post #666. Well, I always knew that one of my alter-egos was a bitch with a W!

It reminds me of something I read long ago and I'll have to paraphrase because I have no idea where I read it. It was something like:

All old women are witches. They know how to make a sweater and mittens from the fleece of a sheep. Brown globes they stick in the ground turn into tulips. They know how to turn water, yeast and flour into bread. They know how to grow potatoes from bits of potatoes stuck into the ground...

Anyway, in this age of fast food, instant everything, and throw-away consumerism, those old-fashioned hands-on skills still mean something.

Call me a bitch or witch. I have blogged post #666 and worse yet, I'm not pretending it doesn't exist, a la 13th floor in many skyscrapers in North America.

Sometimes at work, the indicator light on the elevator doesn't come on as it passes a floor. It will be like that for days; at one floor the bulb behind the floor-number is blown and doesn't come on as the elevator slides past it. All the other floors' indicator lights blink on then off as the elevator passes them, whether or not we stop at that floor.

It always gives me a kick to say to anybody who will listen:

"Look at that. The elevator skipped the 5th floor! There is no longer a 5th floor!"

HUH??? I know, sick things amuse me.