Start The World, I Want To Get On...

Delayed by 24 hours, due to journal snafu, but here it is anyway...

Home early from work, with all sorts of good, healthy intentions, like going for my second long walk in as many days & other vaguely weight-loss & exercise ideas.

Except now it's raining. It's only fun to walk in the rain with someone else. You never seem to get as wet then...

And the washing I did last night, which dried during a nice sunny day today, is now getting an extra rinse on the clothesline.

Still, mustn't grumble... at least I don't have to water the garden.

I think I've set a record for recent times. Home every night of the week so far. Thank god, really, 'cause there's not much in the bank 'til payday tomorrow. Largesse goes out on the town, poverty stays at home.

So, which of my list of stuff-to-do will get done tonight?? Guitar practice; new tape for the car (bored with the 20 or so that are in there already. Fickle... moi??); vacuuming the house & rediscovering the carpet - I'm sure it used to be red. Now the only red surfaces are on my black & white rug, where careless wine drinking guests have left their mark & I haven't been quick enough with the salt; finally starting the 2nd half of the final edit of 'the book'...

"...Freedom from choice, is what you need."

Now... dinner.

Peaceful, Queasy Feeling

A new world record... 5 nights home in a row!!

A worrying record actually... it IS Friday night after all... & it's payday... Could it be that I'm getting financially responsible in my early middle age & have subconsciously started saving for the trip to Melbourne in 13 days from now?

The week in review, therefore is full of not much news. A couple of problems at work I thought I'd seen the last of, came back in different forms with new twists in the tail, but on the whole a painless set of 5. All other dramas on the personal front have been documented in previous entries. Still can't bring myself to be civil to anyone who hits things semi-rhythmically though. I had a call from "Another Drummer" this evening before I left work, who unleashed an elliptical, pointless conversation on me & was therefore given vague, double & triple meaning answers in return - some of which could possibly be taken as demeaning, if one stopped to think about them long enough... but who knows a drummer that does?

Hmmm... these grapes are sour... Time to stop chewing & either spit or swallow.

Speaking of which - dinnertime & a bottle of wine