I was trying to think last night. To really think, the way I used to, the lateral, backward-and-forward, compartmentalised way I used to. And I realised, I don't enjoy it like I did. Maybe I just feel less need to impress myself, but for all the logicality in me, I really do love a good day dream. Shame on me.
Also, I went out for a hike with some small children, to a rocky valley where there is a pond, and tadpoles, and turtles, and transparently brown fish. We caught loads of tadpoles, but I couldn't let them take any home, cause I rang their mum up and she said she hadn't anywhere to keep them. C'est la vie. Well.
My flat is coming together nicely. I'm not doing a good deal of the work, but what are pints of ice cream for beside bribing the help? Also, I desperately need a beer. I haven't had any in far too long and I'm meant to do some singing tonight. But my sinuses are congested and my immunity is low, so I likely won't be arsed.
Someone with lovely long hair is thinking of chopping it off, and I'm mortified. Which is ridiculous, of course, because I've got little-boy hair myself.
So I just realised that it doesn't do to say that my rooms are nearly finished, cause you've no idea what I've done with them. Well, the walls are repainted, in nice, colonial colours, and I have a new coffee table on which I have painted a couple circling koi, and we're building little chairs to go round them.
I've got a vase, as well, dark rust-coloured, with dead plant matter in it. New blinds, too, and an air conditioner.
Looks all sharp and sexy, really. I'm getting a bit attached to this little living space, as tawdry and inconvenient as it is.
Night!