Protection

I am anxious. I haven't even had any coffee this afternoon, and I'm still wincing like nobody's business. I need a wooden spoon to bite down on.

Still, I think I'm managing to look normal. I don't have to show anyone my broken teeth. That's why God made lips: nature's mouth-cloak.

It's all very hi-tech (highly technical), the human body. We have retractable shields protecting our most sensitive areas, which are consciously controlled. The eyeball has the eyelid, the mouth has the lips... oh. Those seem to be the only ones. I can't consciously close my nostrils or ear holes. I can't retract my genitals. Not completely, anyway.

Maybe the body is more lo-tech (Lopez technical) than I'd previously assumed. I wish I could curl up into an armoured ball like a woodlouse or armadillo. I'm too prone. I could make myself a giant ceramic egg, but it wouldn't fit into even my largest kiln.

I just put both hands over my face and sighed. If anyone saw me, they'd probably think I had something profound tattooed on my palms. There's too much of today still to go. I might take a break. I could go to the fountain and watch the ducks. You can't be anxious when you're looking at ducks. It's something about the way they walk. A stress-ball for the eyes, they are. And hands, if you squeeze them. And thighs, if you squeeze them with your thighs. All relaxing-like.

This is the worst Christmas ever. It's not even December.