Fantasy books, terrible advice, and random silliness
Stories from my life with no particular point.
Self-deception is a fine art with a long and hallowed tradition. I’ve been getting gold stars in it since primary school.
In order to celebrate my continued success in this arena, I thought I’d lay out and admire how badly I deceive myself about how I spend my weekdays.
Continue reading “How I believe I spend my day vs how I actually spend my day”
There are certain dreams I frequently have when I’m stressed. They probably say something deep (and not very flattering) about my psyche.
Perhaps weirdly, they’re not about the most calamitous events–in the scheme of things they’re closer to laughable–but that doesn’t stop them being terribly stressful to live (or dream) through.
There was a time when I used to save bookmarks in Chrome into informatively labelled folders.
That time ended years ago.
Since then, I’ve been throwing everything I want to save into a melting pot called “Other bookmarks”. It’s true, these are the bookmarks that are not in the organised folders, which makes them “other”. (Except for the ones that are duplicates, which are not “other”.) Still, as labels go it’s not especially helpful.
I can never stop things accumulating beside my bed. Tubes of lip balm, hair ties, and half-read books have a habit of piling up.
Going through them is a geological exploration. The deeper you get, the longer ago the sediment (or book) was deposited.
It seems like time to clear out the book pile, and I thought I’d document what I found.
Monday was my first day back in the office after two weeks of lying in the sun editing my book and keeping His Royal Fluffiness company.
Don’t get me wrong, I like my work (most days), but going back after time off is like falling through the ice on a pond.
Worse, His Royal Fluffiness gets lonely. And he still hasn’t figured out how to use his new cat flap since the lion cat incident, so when I go to work he’s locked in all day and I feel terrible. Is having to sit by the door for eight hours to let the cat in and out a good excuse for not going to work?