Just call me Miss Moodswings. Today I have been mostly excited, but also frustrated. But the frustrated is mostly work, and that's boring. No fewer boring than anything else I write, but differently so. See?

So. Today I managed to win a hotly-contested game of Scrabble (not the one against verlaine, or the one against sion_a, in both of which I was given the PASTINGS I couldn't play at addedentry). I also managed to buy useful things at lunchtime, including a proper bag to replace my tattered work bag (an army surplus rucksack that I bought about 5 years ago for a tenner which (the bag, not the tenner) has developed a hole in the bottom THE SIZE OF A MAN'S HEAD [that's the hole that's the size of, etc., not the bottom]). The proper bag is a cunning convertible whatnot which converts, with two unclips and reclips (two of each) of the strap-clips, from a shoulder-bag into a rucksack. (Still with me? Good.) It also has a mobile-phone-shaped pocket into which my mobile phone will undoubtedly fail to fit since it is the size of a small family car (the phone, not the pocket [which is the nature of the problem (that is, the problem is the disparity in size, not the pocket per se, but even more so not the phone [so perhaps after all it is the pocket that is at fault])]). In addition to the bag and all its attendent grammatical complications I bought a stir-fry mix which made a jolly good salad (especially with half of yesterday's can of tuna in it), a haggis, some carrots, and some egg custard tarts.

This evening I tidied up the mountain of paper-based stuff on sion_a's chair, and did some mending that had been sitting around waiting to be mended for about FIVE YEARS, while sion_a played Sonic Spinball. (That is, I did the mending while he, not it sat around while he, if you see what I.) This makes it sound like I did all the work while he slacked, but really, normally he does everything while I procrastinate too much to even slack efficiently. The conversation (if you can call it a conversation) went something like this:

S: "Nooooo! That's not fair!!"
J: "God, I've completely messed this up. I'll have to unpick the whole row."
S: "Phew, I've bust through the door, now I've just got to get back up the barrels."
J: "It's only back-stitch, how can I make such a mess of this?"
S: "Aghh! Now I've got to get ALL FOUR HEADS again!"
J: "I'd have to darn this, for fuck's sake. I can't darn corduroy."
S: "OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
J: "GRAHHHHH!"

Men are from Nintendo, women are from haberdashery. After much thread-related frustration on my part and hedgehog-related frustration on his, we went to the pub and drank beer. I came away with one invitation to pancakes, one promise of a cgi tutorial, one plan for a party, and one absence of cornet music. And two pints' worth of drunkenness.

Now I am going to have a bath. Drunken conversations make more sense than normal conversations:

J: "sion_a?"
S: [silence]
J: "sion_a!"
S: [silence]
J: "MISTER sion_a!!!"
S: "Hm?"
J: "Are you having a bath?"
S: "Huh?"
J: "ARE YOU HAVING A BATH?"
S: "No!"
J: "Can I have a bath?"
S: "Yes!"
J: "Great!"

It's like Beckett, but with more baths in it. I have run a bath. My bath is going cold while I type this. It is like Molloy, ONLY WITH BATHS. Really. Take my word for it. Or not.

Tags: diary, observation, shopping, werke