Hello four people eagerly waiting for more brain-chaff on this interweb page. Why haven't I added more blog-entries since last friday? Several reasons. 1. Some days I didn't really get up to enough to merit actual blogging. Other days were insanely busy. I've started packing for instance. Doing final admin in order to actually leave in two and a half weeks.
I did have some ideas tho and will try to find the time to inplement these in following blogs.
Today I spent dismantling a settee. Which was fun. It took me almost 3 hrs. Most of that time was spent balancing the biggest bit inbetween the kitchen door, the actual door and the toes of my left foot. Trying to get the _*&@!$+ thing out (he
is a man of letters, isn't he? Yah...) of the house. Mostly, I tried to push and pull it slowly towards the outside, like people trying desperately to free a killer whale (NOT as in the famous film). Not by having it jump over an island + small boy to the ocean but through a plughole towards a lawn. (That's a nice image, isn't it? Just let it sink in..) Eventually, I had to run 29 times from and back to the tool shed cos Yes, this was very much The one that would get those blasted screws to finally give way. Yes. I'm still tired.
The settee was in my room (great segway. Yeah, I know. I'm king of the linky-bits); which has decided to get me to leave as quickly as I can. In the last week, 3 lights in the main bit of where I live have one by one given up on me. Now, if I were in any way superstituous (which I'm not), I'd might be moved to say that the house is really trying to get me out, so it can get up to some mischief all of its own. Now, it's turning its evil quite deliberately in my direction. There's probably more than a couple of ghosts living in the beams of the bedroom ceiling. The boiler has been steadily growing an IQ to match mine (considerable, I grant you. (CUT TO: me, laughing maniacally behind a huge desk and in front of roaring fire, fueled with paper cut-outs of my enemies and relatives. Nurse, champagne! (right...))). And, during certain days of the summer, slugs would find their way into my kitchen and under my (socked or un-socked) feet (my mum would have a heart attack finding out I don't do slippers when I'm on my own. Oh, this is a public forum, isn't it? Yeah. Sort of). (I should really ease up on the brackety-bits. But that's how my mind works. Deal with it. (...) (sorry if that last bit offended anyone (I'm such a coward))) (I'm such a neurotic with the actual number of brackets at the end bit. I promise I'll stop. AAGH! Ahum.). The slug, spreading itself under my toes, would make me do something nor it, nor any of its phylum, will ever be able to do, unless evolution goes very much awry in the next billion years. I'd jump like a four year old girl. Quickly taking the muck off my feet and what was left of the slug (literally: the bottom half of a slug) with a bit of toilet roll, I'd usually open the door, and leave the mucky bit of paper in a potted plant next to my front door. This is in itself quite awkward. Especially if you're in your pants.
Thank God I live in the middle of nowhere.
I was once lambasted for living in an insanely far-off place. This was in 2007, when there was a bus-stop 50m away. Still, she insisted in her claim that no humans should live in a place like this. I only started to get irony at 21, but then I thought she was dissing my crib. So I slapped her in the head with a living cow.
Hence the haunted loft.
I'm just joking, she's still alive. I mean the cow. No. The girl. Yes. No. (Lessons in digging your own holes, there.).
Like my friend to whom I apologised for not engaging in a facebook chat with the other day. I really worked on the apology, making it as awkward as I possibly could (and this can get pretty awkward. I know my way around an inappropriate adjective (Ooh!)). After a while, he came back with an: I'd like to thank you for that. I've got a date tonight and you've just provided me with the best ever-keep cool-mechanism for really nailing a date.
ME: Oh; what is it?
HIM: Don't be you.
I laughed. Loudly. On my own.
More self-indulging crap tomorrow, possibly.
Or it might just be another week. You never know.