Thursday, 19 January 2017

stories with no morals

Well I have reached a point that I did not really expect to - all the posts on the front page of this here blog were written in the current year. I know right! I would celebrate if I could think of an appropriate mode in which to do so. But I cannot think of anything, because I am very, very tired - not sleeping - and also there is a nest of unleasant portents and omens gathering around me and probably around you too.

I asked for my work computer to be fixed and just to teach me an important life lesson, it was removed and replaced with one that has none of my stuff on it and also makes a horrible high pitched whining noise. So I took my own laptop to work and am using that. I couldn't be bothered bringing it home today. This means that in order to blog I have to use my phone.  I thought I would do some yoga while writing this post but I got kind of stuck in striking cobra, not in that I was unable to move, more that I couldn't see a reason to bother, and then Vinnie snuck up and bit me on the foot as is his cruel and savage wont.

This is a day of great lucklessness in the foot department because a little earlier I was finding clothes to wear to work tomorrow and I took out a twelve year old pair of high heeled campers which I suddenly remembered I owned and moreover are the most fantastic pair of shoes ever created. But the sole and heel are made of red rubber which has somehow decayed or corroded, and as if in a dreadful nightmare, I was standing there with beautiful shoes disintegrating in my hands. And just a short time earlier than this, I was on the couch reading Brideshead Revisited when I fell asleep, and when I woke up a little later not one but both my feet were sort of half on top of and half inside my dinner, a Spinach pie from A1 bakery that I bought on my way home and which I had thought about all afternoon instead of what I should have been thinking about, which was the Cuban missile crisis. Well there is nothing for it but to link to an eleven year old achewood strip that explains what's about to happen, tomorrow or the day after. Achewood

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