Cats at Hannover

When things are really bad – celebrate, as they can only get better. If they don’t, and instead of getting better, they get worse - it simply means they weren’t bad enough yet.
The week before I went to Hannover Messe, for an event that seemed like a rest from life. For one whole week, I was doing anything but the things that  belong in mine:

-          Getting up at 6.00 instead of the usual 7.45 just in time to get the kids to school when the bell rings,

-          Standing all day instead of sitting down (by the way, that’s probably the reason why a Stand is called a Stand),

-          Practicing box-carrying and unpacking as the main sports, instead of some other activities inspired by eastern-philosophy, and practised on a thin mat

-          Being nice all day, instead of being the usual leader of the one-person’s Witch Program,

-          Wearing a crisp-ironed, white shirt, instead of the usual black sweater,

-          Forgetting about jeans

-          And many other unusual things, but after all, isn’t holiday about doing things you don’t usually do?

This rest from life made me so exhausted, that I had to take 2 days in life to recover.
This is not how I pictured this. After 7 days on the booth, my feet were in a state of despair. Cats are much better equipped to become booth personnel, they namely have foot cushions. People don’t. It’s a true a gap in the market: an agency hiring cats to do the exhibitions. At least the standing part of them. There’s just one little obstacle, but I guess it can be overcome with proper training: you surely want the cats you hired to stand on your booth, and not go talk to the competitors about the price hike of cat food.

Coming back to where I started: I thought my feet couldn’t get any worse by the moment I smashed my little toe against the bed frame, when back in life. It turned all black and blue (the toe, not the frame), it hurts terribly now and makes me consider flip-flops. Now I can celebrate. Now I know I’ve reached the bottom, in the non-literal sense of the word. It could have been literal though if our STAND was called a SIT.

And the moment I started to celebrate, confident that the bottom has been reached, and nothing worse than feet that is killing and badly bruised can happen to me, I heard that perhaps I'll be fired, for saying "Yes, sir" in a most inappropriate moment. So now I'm trying to imagine what could be worse for a man than hearing "Yes, sir" in a most inappropriate moment and concluded that "Yes, madam" would do the trick. I'll try it next time.