weewee bin

It's amazing how horrible, lardy and inactive a simple missed lunchtime-walk makes you feel. In my seven minutes out of the office at lunchtime I went perhaps two hundred metres to the shop and back and couldn't even go very fast as I didn't have time to change into comfortable galloping-clothes and hate office-wear even more when it's slightly sweaty; the ease with which it becomes slightly sweaty used to make me think I was some sort of horribly sweat-ridden freak but it's just that shirts are exceptionally poor at allowing air to circulate and any form of full-length trouser seems to make my feet overheat something awful. The blame all lies at the feet of him, a former colleague now swanning blithely around a fancy new employment whilst I have to attempt to connect unautomated reality with his shite instructions which appear to have been hurriedly written two days before he left. I might get another former colleague who is also one of his new current colleagues to wander past his desk and spill some water over the crotch of his trousers just before leaving-time one day or something. Indirectly stealing my nice fresh air indeed.

Rather than attempt to hear myself think over the sound of the telly (that thing where they compare methods of bringing up healthy, happy children with methods of producing mother-issue-stuffed alienated sociopaths) I'll just go and have a nice read. Nicky does have a worklaptop with her today which I could use to blip from the quiet safety of the other room but I haven't yet got round to setting wireylessness back up since the last reformat. I did make a strategic comment when she was using it earlier about how nice and quiet it was compared to a fan-riddled desktop but it didn't work.

One day.

Soon.

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Bloody hell. They really didn't like children much in the fifties. "Don't look at it. That's what it wants you to do. RESIST it. NO! DON'T TOUCH IT!" No wonder they were so paranoid about communists if they believed a mere two-day old baby capable of deliberate emotional manipulation.

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Silliness in case you missed it
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