DIY averse and incompetent, I resolve issues with indisputably incorrect workarounds. Next up I plan to cut up some dish-washing sponge and stick it to some double sided adhesive on my wall directly behind the nobs on top of my bedframe. Every time I lean back, the wood knocks into the wall. The slightest readjustment to get comfortable or having an itch and I knock to alert my neighbour about it. Apparently I need to tighten the screws on the bedframe but I'm liking this sponge idea. It should be better than my last solution - small bits of card blu-tac'd onto the nobs on the top of the bedframe. As you would expect, this did very little and yet I have left it this way for two years. Sponge is a step up. A technological advancement of engineering. Once I have "achieved" this, all required work on my room is basically done and I will be once again free to do whatever it is I do with my time. Strong emphasis on the word "required", the room is far from perfe...
I fear this blog is becoming too journaly, which isn't not the intention but I want to be more creative than that. My first instinct is to quote another lyric, which being someone else's words, is the opposite of creative. I guess I'll have to do it anyway as the point of this blog is to just write what's on my mind and I can't think of anything else, so it is the Leonard Cohen lyric - "I can't forget that I don't remember what." Still awaiting delivery of posters, I sit here once again in familiar surroundings left bleaker by empty spaces on the walls standing over me. I have some pictures but I don't want to arrange them only for my new arrivals to then not suit anywhere within that arrangement. Our landlord insists on using double sided adhesive strips (called Command Strips) instead of using Blu-Tac. The intention is to not damage the paintwork on removal but the damage rate is pretty much the same. Stupid. Because of this futile rule, I mu...
I still wasn't entirely sure whether I was to blame for subjecting my weakened post-Glastonbury insides to a curry, or whether I had genuinely had some level of food poisoning. To delay having to make a decision on this conundrum in a delirious weak state, I opted for freezer instead of bin for the the leftovers. Although even if the food is fine the mental association of it's flavour may yet prove too much. On Thursday evening I watched five episodes in a row of Stephen Merchant's sitcom 'Hello Ladies', worrying about the looming reality of being in the office tomorrow. The positive - I forgot how good Hello Ladies was. By the time Friday arrived, I had only eaten half a slice of bread and a few spoonful's of white rice since Wednesday evening, so I headed to work trying not to collapse. Somehow I managed a level of pseudo-normalcy in my interactions with colleagues. It was somebody's last day so I had to make some level of effort. Throughout the day my br...
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