It’s been 3 months of working from home and I think the most popular phrase I’ve heard myself say is ‘Leave it!’. Sometimes I’ve said it in succession so much so that I’m thinking of releasing a cover of the King of Pop’s classic with a chorus like this:
Just leave it! (leave it) Leave it! (leave it)
All she’s gonna do is break it
Sure she’s not working. Sure it’s my plight
If it gets broken who’s gonna buy it?
Just leave it, leave it, leave it…(leave it ×4)
Bless my daughter. She is quite the inquisitive type, always wanting to know how things work, why things light up, and how everything that can fit in her hand tastes. Interestingly enough like me she takes hygiene very seriously – when I use the sanitizer dispenser I rub my palms. When I pour some for her she rubs both palms and then uses one palm to clean her tongue (only she knows where she’s been).
Working from home couldn’t be more adventurous because you don’t know what she’s almost going to damage if you’re not looking. I have a rough daily count of my Leave It chorus:
My phone whilst charging – Once a day
Water dispenser without a cup – Twice a day
TV remote already replaced – More than twice a day
My official laptop – I’ve lost count
Well my consolation with this behaviour is that it’s only a phase and like the Corona virus it will pass very soon 🙂
This pic is the way I remembered Michael Jackson as a child and will always remember him. He’s the reason why I would sing or hum a tune in the shower every morning. He’s the reason why I still keep pairs of trousers that have outgrown me. He’s the reason why I body-pop whenever I’m in front of a mirror (alone). He’s the reason why I moonwalk whenever I’m on a slippery surface (again, alone). He’s the reason why most of the CDs in my car don’t get as much airplay on a daily basis. He’s the reason I’ve become a fan of Usher, Chris Brown, Ginuwine, Sisco and Justin Timberlake. He’s the reason I have a romantic, imaginative and sensitive side. He’s the reason I’m writing this impromptu post at 6am in the morning even though I should be getting ready for work. He’s probably the reason why it’s been raining non stop since 4am this morning…and perhaps the reason why it still looks dark outside. He’s the reason why the world is in mourning today. His performances were electrifying and his legacy is unprecedented. For this and generations to come he is a music legend, a dancing maestro, a philanthropist, an icon of our time. He is and will always be remembered as the KING OF POP. Michael, I salute you…I miss you…and I’ll see you Neverland… 🙁
You can see her looking at you from across the room. In fact, she’s been watching you all night. She’s all by herself in that sexy, ‘Daddy-would-kill-me-if- he-saw-me-in-this’ dress. Your friends taunt you to go over and talk to her. You rub off your sweaty palms against your crotch hugging MJ pants and summon up enough courage to make your move. As you get your swagger on in your MJ loafers you notice your bounce coincides with the 
You know you don’t want to but in the words of Chris Tucker ‘She FAAAINE, men!’ You can’t afford to let some other chump acquire those ass-ets. You’ve earned it! So before you try to talk your way out of it she drags you to the dance floor anyway. Now, you tell yourself ‘I aint so bad, I was the smooth MJ hot-stepper back in the day, I’ve still got a few tricks up my socks…but how the f*** am I supposed to dance to Say My Name, Say My Name?’ Is that even scientifically possible? You don’t remember seeing Destiny’s Child do much more than strike poses for 90% of the music video. She’s looking at your ‘leg/feet’ area like she’s saying ‘Show me what you got, you stud-muffin’. Your friends are watching…HER friends are watching…There’s no turning back…This is it! It’s time to bust an MJ move!
You’re under pressure so you look to see what other people are doing but they’re just moving side to side. If you can’t beat ’em join ’em, right? But you’re in for a surprise! Your dance partner is doing the moves in the Destiny’s Child video and you’re starting to wonder if she was behind the choreography. Next up the DJ switches to ‘Dutty Wine’ and she gets into position to flip it on you – but you don’t quite expect it. It’s not your kinda song and you’d rather go sit down with her. You move closer to her to tell her this but from nowhere your face gets whooped by a pound of organic arm-length ‘shanikwa’ braids. You’re dazed but she’s too busy dutty wining to even notice the whole left-side of your face is swollen.
