Thyme's Machine

All the lame movies start with an alarm going off and someone waking up. Basically, it's dumb because it's not amazing. It happens to me every morning. So, if this were a movie, I would tell you to ask for your money back. Right here and right now. But it's not a movie - it's just a book, so you're stuck with me until something else more exciting comes along in your life. And if you are anything like me, we take our excitement wherever we can get it. Maybe I'm weird, but I get bored scrolling through Tik Tok, and I sure as hell am not going to spend an afternoon Barbiefying my profile pic. Not that I have anything against looking like a plastic fashion doll with whiskers and cat ears, but I see my friends' profile pics and I think, 'What the Flying Fish! That's not you!' And then I text them how amazing their profile pic is and how much I love it. So I guess I'm just as plastic. Where was I? Oh, yeah. You are here, reading this now, because you're bored. Nobody ever skipped a sky-diving session to read a book. So if you are reading this, you probably don't have a parachute with your name on it. Same here. My life is just as yawring (yawning plus boring) at the moment, and I need to find a way to shake things up a bit. So being late for school (the bell has already rung, no kidding), and I'm not even dressed yet, is a good place to start. Another factor in my favour is that I have no idea what I'm going to wear. As in N-O_I-D-E-A! Let's see what's in my cupboard. Oh_kay. Not much. It's all downstairs behind the sofa. Mom thinks I packed my laundry away but I was watching re-re-re-runs of Big Bang Theory. I don't usually tell people about binging on BBT, so don't go Instagramming it, please. I laugh right through every episode. Raj is my absolute favourite. I would date a guy like him without thinking twice. In real life, he's probably already grey with a hearing aid by now. I wonder what Raj would think about what I'm wearing today, because I spy with my little eye, something beginning with a 'T' -- as in tartan. Today I will be wearing my tartan skirt. Yeah, I know that's a fashion disaster right there, but right now I am looking for disaster and I better look the part. I outgrew it (the tartan, not the desire for excitement) a couple of years ago, but I stay skinny as a praying mantis, so it still fits (kind of) - it's just a bit short. However (my favourite word at the moment), I can't go in just a b*a covering my nom de plumes. I really do need something on top, as there is so little to start with. And I found it. My tartan's new best friend! The blouse Shirley made for me in her first year at fashion design school. I don't know if the sleeves are supposed to be this long and whether two inches of skin is supposed to be visible between the top of my skirt and the bottom of the shirt. I really don't care about thise tiny details, because I L O V E that there's not a single button anywhere on the blouse. Everything is fastened with thin leather thongs threaded through a million little button holes. It's so cool you could say it's climate friendly. Greta Thumberg should be wearing one. Where was I? Oh, yes. The "I want a Disaster Declaration". Sorry, I was going to tell you about this, and then I got sidetracked by clothing. I decided to make a, "I want a Disaster Declaration". Here goes: I, Madison Smith (no relative of Will), being of sound mind (mmm) and healthy body (for sure), do hereby openly, knowingly and boldly declare that I am in search of a disaster that does not involve death, serious injury, or hunger. This disaster will be restricted to my life and my space, and it will not in any way infringe on the rights of the World Health Organisation (WHO), the World Economic Forum (WEF) or the penguins in Madagascar. So help me God. Signed Madison Smith. Oh_kay. Let's see how Mom and Dad are coping without me at the breakfast table.