At a meeting yesterday, there were 5 of us sitting around a circular table discussing how ‘mu:kaumedia would provide podcasting services to a web design agency. Someone asked me a question and as I launched into my answer, my eye fell on what I thought was a tiny fly on the table near my coffee cup. I went to flick it away, but it stuck to the end of my finger – and then did that uniquely ‘flea’ thing: it squirmed and pinged straight back onto the table.
For some reason, a wave of irrational, childhood shame and horror washed over me. Fleas! Eeeewwwww! Hide it! Hide it! Despite the fact that no-one else around the table could possibly have seen it, I had to hide it. So I secretly trapped it – thumb and index finger pressed together in what must have seemed like some sort of sudden rigor mortis.
By some herculean feat of self-control, I managed to preserve my pretence of normality and effect a ‘casual’ withdrawal of my contorted claw to safety below the table in order to fling the shameful flea, unnoticed, thousands of feet to the carpet below.
Isn’t it odd the lengths we’ll go to?
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