Articles in “Strange Conversations”

And yet another house-cleaning conversation:

NICK (surveying his new desk): There! I think that looks much better.
ME: Well, sort of.
NICK: What do you mean?
ME: Well, there’s a dead moth in that box of CD cases, for example.
NICK: Those things are turning up everywhere!
ME: And I don’t think we need to keep that box.
NICK: What?
ME: The box that the TiVo wireless adaptor came in: I don’t think we need to keep it.
NICK: You keep saying such horrible, hateful things!

Well, I did move in with a man who keeps all his old bus tickets in a tissue box.

And, continuing the theme of “Nick won’t throw anything out, ever,” we had this conversation when I found him carefully storing an empty box on a shelf:

ME: No! Flatten it and throw it in the recycling!
NICK: But it’s such a lovely box!
ME: And?
NICK: We can store things in it.
ME: Such as?
NICK: Paper. And . . . stuff.
ME: Do you really want to find a place for it in the garage?
NICK: . . . No.

Seriously: this man keeps old calendars on the grounds that they’ll be accurate again one day. Before I moved in with him, I didn’t know one could have conversations like this:

ME: What’s that under Walt Simonson’s run on Thor?
NICK: Just magazines.
ME: That looks like a Dick Smith catalogue.
NICK: Maybe. Ooh, Hi-Fi Magazine.

One day, I’m going to be found buried alive under a stack of Dick Smith catalogues, bus tickets, and Batman calendars from 1987.

While cleaning before a house inspection:

ME: Do you see the giant dead moth that I found on your side of the study?
NICK: Point it out to me?
ME: (Pointing)
NICK: Where?
ME: (Pointing more closely)
NICK: Oh, there. I guess, when you said “giant dead moth,” I was just expecting something a bit, you know, bigger.

The rest of the conversation was silent.

Well, largely.

ME: What’s this Facebook group you joined?
NICK: Oh, it’s just something I heard about.
ME: You shouldn’t join Facebook groups without discussing it with your girlfriend. (Note: this was a joke.)
NICK: No, you shouldn’t join pervy Facebook groups without discussing it with your girlfriend.

I have a pile of marking (again! And another assessment task coming in next week!), but I also have a house inspection (stupid rental agreements), so this morning is dedicated to tidying the bedroom.

But Nick has missed out on most of the cleaning so far, working nine to five as he does, so this conversation took place over instant messaging:

ME: Don’t think I didn’t notice that you were keeping your dirty socks on the armchair.
NICK: I was?
ME: And pants. And a T-shirt. And I noticed those, too.
NICK: I’m astonished.
ME: Am I suddenly typing to the wrong person? ‘Cause this is freaky.
NICK: No?
ME: Well, then, why are you astonished? You must have noticed yourself putting your pants on the chair.
NICK: I don’t really pay that much attention, I’m sorry to say.
ME: You don’t pay much attention to where you put your pants?
NICK: No. Why that is, I cannot say.

I suppose the cold from which he is currently suffering is slowing down Nick’s thought processes.

ME: It’s hot tonight.
NICK: Well, it was always going to be 17-30 today.
ME: Yes, but it’s going to be 10-25 tomorrow, you said?
NICK: Yep.
ME: So, I thought it would be cooler tonight.
NICK: No, but it’s 17-30 tonight.
ME: Yes, but 10-25 tomorrow.
NICK: Yes.
ME: So it should be cooler tonight.
NICK: No, but that’s tomorrow. It’s 17-30 tonight.
ME: Yes, but that minimum temperature should be the night before. Otherwise, it would be 25-10, you see?
NICK: I see.
ME: So you think it would be cooler tonight.
NICK: Why?

NICK: A couple of the guys who did KOTOR 2 worked on the original Fall-Out games. So they have excellent pedigree.
ME: Which is useful, if you wish to breed them with other games programmers.
NICK: True. And it’s sort of what happened.
ME: That’s kind of weird, honey.
NICK: Yeah, I know. Sorry.

I find it necessary to note that I do become quite tense in supermarkets, especially at high-traffic times when many people bump into me with their trolleys, but that’s not the point . . .

NICK: I think that went very well.
ME: Because I didn’t get angry?
NICK: Yes.
ME: I don’t always get angry in the supermarket.
NICK: Still, I think you did very well.
ME: I will get angry if you patronise me.
NICK: Fair enough.

I don’t have a real reason for posting this. It’s not quite a strange conversation. It’s just that as we were having this conversation, the following thoughts ran through my head:

This is interesting: I’d not thought about Time Lords quite like this before.
I wonder if I should post something along these lines on the blog?
Would people be interested in that?
Hmm, that might be quite a bit of work, though.
What button is it to cut and paste? Control or command?

And, yes: I genuinely am this verbose on IM.

ME: Sweetie, Romana is dead.
NICK: Well, probably. But you’d have thought the same about the Rani.
ME: No, because the Rani comes under the same category as the Master.
She’s an outlaw. Why would she go back to fight for Gallifrey? The Master wouldn’t if they hadn’t resurrected him specifically for that purpose. So she would never have been involved in the Time War.
NICK: Yes that’s true.
ME: Romana would have been.
NICK: True.
ME: As Susan would have been. They have social consciences that the Master and the Rani never had.
NICK: I wouldn’t be surprised if we see a full-blown resurrection of the Time Lords at some point though. It’s too tempting for someone not to do.
ME: Yeah—I’d love to see that, in a way. You know? But, at the same time, this new series is predicated on that all being gone. So it would also be a cop-out, and I might shout a little bit.
NICK: I know. That’s very much the danger of such a move. A lot of the authentic emotion of the new series derives from it. It’s made the Time Lords seem a lot grander than they ever did in the flesh.
ME: Well, and they are a lot grander now than they were.
NICK: That’s true too.
ME: The Time Lords in the original series were grandiose. But they were also atrophied.
NICK: Yeah.
ME: And the original series never shied away from that. That’s why the Doctor fled, really.
NICK: Yes, though the mise en scene distinction between atrophied and spangly was always a difficult one.
ME: Well, yes. I’ll give you that. Those collars, though! Magnifique!
NICK: Oh yeah. That is why James Acheson got Academy Awards after leaving the BBC.
ME: The costuming was awesome. And it reinforced the fact that they were an atrophied species, that they were so secure (metaphorically) in their self-righteousness and (literally) in their dome that they never needed to fear attack. No species fearing attack would wear collars they couldn’t turn their head in. The Time Lord collars are their “brains in the hand.”
NICK: That’s genius. Maybe the collars were bulletproof too?
ME: Maybe? Who uses guns in the Whoverse? Apart from humans.
NICK: True. Stasers were used on Gallifrey.
ME: And we know Time Lords aren’t bullet proof—poor 7th Doctor.
NICK: Yes, indeed.

ME: I’m sure that having children does bring a deep sense of joy.
MY MOTHER: When will I notice that?
(Short pause while peals of laughter echo down the phone line)
ME: I’m putting you in a home, Mother.
MY MOTHER: Are you going to put that on the blog? You can tell people I’m not your mother any more.
ME: You’re still my mother. I’m just putting you in a home.
MY MOTHER: Put that on the blog!

NICK: Pizza is servitoring!
ME: Really?
NICK: Yeah!
ME: You mean it’s going to bring me another glass of wine?
NICK: Yep.
ME: Sweet! We should have pizza every night.
NICK: We should!

ME: Honey?
NICK: Yep?
ME: I’m doing a Facebook quiz to find out which literary time period I am.
NICK: Right . . .
ME: And it wants to know what people’s “most frequent (though perhaps mistaken) criticism” of me is. So am I a goody two-shoes, narcissistic, pretentious, a different person around different people, too serious, or (a couple of other options that I’ve forgotten already).
NICK: I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say anything negative.
ME: I’m sure you have, but for the purposes of the quiz, which am I?
NICK: In other people’s eyes?
ME: Yes. I’m veering towards “pretentious.”
NICK: Well, yes: you are that.
ME: Because I . . . you what?
NICK: For the purposes of the quiz!

NICK: Dinner is almost ready, my lush.
ME: Okay.
NICK: I don’t know why I called you “my lush” there.
ME: Well, I was going to ask you to get me another glass of wine. Maybe it was precognitive?
NICK: Probably.

ME: Honey, is there any coffee made up? I could really do with a cup of coffee.
NICK: I’ll make coffee, and then maybe we could try the Easter eggs Mum gave us?
ME: But what are you eating right now?
NICK: Other Easter eggs.

NICK: Do you want to put some music on?
ME: Sure. What do you fancy?
NICK: I don’t know. I’m easy, baby. Easy like Sunday morning.
ME: No, you’re not. You’re incredibly difficult, like . . . Friday afternoon.

Nick’s been spending the night on design work for his website, which always makes me think about my website.

ME: I really should have a search function on the blog.
NICK: You know, that’s not even a difficult thing to do.
(Pause of some minutes)
NICK: There! My website is nearly tolerable.
ME: Tolerable? Wow!
NICK: I’m an exacting man, Treena.
ME: Not as far as my blog is concerned. It doesn’t even have a search function!
NICK: Oh, god. Next task: a search function for Treena.
(Pause)
NICK: Or for her blog.

As I watch Nick execute increasingly complicated dance moves in the living room:

ME: Nicholas, what is wrong with you?
NICK: I’m on holiday! And I’m so happy!
ME: Yes! All the more time for me to bully and nag you about things.
ME AND NICK: Yay!
NICK: Bullying and nagging—exactly what I signed up for.
(Pause)
ME: You know, it was all fun until you said that.
NICK: It’s true. I do have a mean streak.