OF SHEDS AND METAPHYSICAL APPS - NO, NOT REALLY - IN FACT, NOT AT ALL...

Karen and I went to look at a shed yesterday. 

It's not that we have a fetish for utility space voyeurism or anything like that. Is that a thing?

I'm sure it must be a thing. Everything is a thing nowadays. Perhaps it's always been, they just didn't have an app for it until this present decade. 

Won't it be cool when there's an app for nutrition in the interactive world we're entering... Maybe it will dispense with our pathological obsession with cooking shows on tv - just figuring out how to make the app transfer nutrition from the ether to our energy bodies. 

I mean, I know it sounds out there - it IS out there but if we are nothing more nor less than individual energy centres that process nutrition in an energy transfer, using the fuel and discarding the unwanted byproducts then there's no reason why an app cannot interface with that energy system and link us to the zero-point field to allow the exchange to take place... 

Where was I again? Oh yes - sheds. 

Every person needs a shed, maybe even two sheds. Sheds are the bomb. Especially when one is married to a magpie, a creature attracted to the accumulation of shiny things. 

Ergo: one needs a shed, we don't have one, it's on the agenda, one became available through friends so we decided to call the guy for a shed viewing. 

But this isn't about sheds at all nor, it must be said, is it about metaphysical apps. It's actually about the wife of the man to whom I'd spoken earlier in the day about coming through to check out their up-for-grabs utility facility aka - their shed. 

I collected Karen from her studio en-route as the UF (utility facility aka shed) was close by. 

We arrived, parked and I negotiated my way down the steep driveway to the windowed facade of the house where I rapped firmly on the glass. 

An olive complexioned woman of distinguished looks approached the glass door wearing an utterly bemused expression on her face, this expression dedicated entirely to me. I was the source of her perplexity, it seemed. 

She swung the door ajar and gazed at me quizzically. 

"Hi," I boomed, "I'm Paul. I spoke to Ruhi earlier. I've come to look at the shed...."

She smiled then, immediately at ease, which relieved me mightily. Then she said something extremely peculiar to me. It was as surprising as if she'd just shapeshifted into a mermaid before my eyes. 

She said, "Oh, the shed. It's just that you look like a rock star..." 

Say what? 

"Wow!" I said, laughing uproariously at this pronouncement. "Well that's the nicest, weirdest thing anyone's ever said to me..."

I know my hair is much longer than it's ever been, I was donning a checked shirt, skinny jeans and biker type boots - and I suppose there are my bangles too but it was a quantum leap. 

I told Karen who too thought it to be wonderfully funny. 

The shed was okay, large, utilitarian and full of stuff. It would be a while before it was ready for disassembly. 

We thanked Ruhi, a lovely Persian-English- American-Australian and took our leave. 

"Please tell your wife that she made my day," I said as we pushed back up the crazy driveway. 

A rock star indeed. 

I always knew it. 

Now, I think I'm going to forego the shed idea. 

I might start looking for a second hand Stratocaster instead...

What a life.