It was hot here this weekend.

And we ended up with a yearly bonus after all.
I may have begun spending mine.

Old friends.
Yes, they choose to sleep in the messiest place they can find, purely to spoil my photo.


I have to get the rugby off the top of the page. It was cold today, didn’t you think?


Woe! We lost the rugby: badly, ignominiously, and quite frankly, we choked. Sigh. Another four years. I watched the Wallabies/England game with my English friend in an English pub and had the greatest time – then I was punished for my schadenfreude within a very short time. Woe.

And now I have discovered that the reason my email is playing up is that Thunderbird (which I use for email) has been affected by a McAfee update. But that shouldn’t concern me, right? I don’t even own McAfee! Ah, but I USED to run it on this laptop (actually I had no choice, it came free for 30 days already pre-installed) and it turns out there are still bits of it running, even though I have uninstalled it. Woe! HATE. HATE. HATE. I have fixed it now, but not before it ate my entire folder with emails to/from this blog. At one point I had the headers but no content; now after a bit more tinkering, I have nothing at all. G-O-R-N. It’s gorn, all right. Bugger. Nothing important on there, as such; but still, nothing that I wanted to lose. Curses! If you emailed me and I didn’t reply, now you know why. (Asides from the fact I am lazy, of course. You knew that.) Woe.

Anyway, enough woe. I have unpacked some more boxes and we can see the TV. Mr. T got the ironing board out and ironed his own shirts, then ironed some of my clothes. Liking the Mr. T v2.0 I have to say (although the original problem had nothing to do with ironing, of course. However! He is ironing! Slowly and poorly, but it’s not me!) Of course, this means he has to watch a DVD while he’s doing it, so we have Batman Begins booming at top volume. All those bats are awful and flappy in surround-sound, so you know. Woe. (Not really woe, it just rhymed nicely.)

I have no photos, again. This was taken by Mr. T on a shocking phone camera, then modified and emailed to me.

That’s MY laptop, I’ll have you know.


I’m so tired. All my days got mixed up, and I was blithely making my way through Tuesday when I realised it was actually Wednesday and all the things I thought I had an extra 24 hours to accomplish, were in fact due in mere minutes. Sob. And this morning I woke up convinced it was Friday. Nothing is sadder than thinking it is Friday when it is not. Except maybe thinking it’s Saturday. Yes, that’s worse. Carry on.

Anyway I have moved out of my little playhouse and moved back in with Mr. T. Yay for me. Well, yay for him, because I am clearly a splendid person. Also, the empty lot next to my apartment is about to be built on… NO NO I GO NOW. So I have cleaned that house, emptied it and crammed all my stuff back into this tiny house. Also I bought more stuff. That’s what I do. At the moment we are sitting in the lounge, and my feet are tucked up under me on the couch because there is no room to put them anywhere else. I can only see the top half of the TV because of the boxes stacked in front of them. Mr. T needs to iron a shirt, but the ironing board was foolishly in the corner of the room when we started moving stuff, so now it’s quarantined behind several boxes, a cabinet, a duvet and two airing racks. And a dog, because somehow they have crammed themselves in here as well. And the saddest part? The lounge is the one room I was trying to keep relatively clear of stuff. You don’t want to see the bedroom (hint: two mattresses on one bed base make a REALLY tall bed; I feel like the Princess and the Pea (the princess, not the pea)) and you really, really don’t want to see the spare room. Rumour has it there is a window at the end. I don’t think I’ll see it from the inside again in my lifetime.

I am working out of my company’s other office for a month, which puts me right near the Skipping Girl sign. You know where that is, I’m sure? That’s right, CLOSE TO IKEA. Only I could write about having a house crammed to the rafters with crap, then with no irony whatsoever discuss the merits of working close to a mega furniture store. Honestly, I couldn’t even fit an extra candle in here with a crowbar.

… well. Maybe ONE candle.

Bye, little kitchen. How I envy your clear benches.