Today: ridiculous
Nov. 12th, 2011 06:58 pmToday has been a mixture of unproductivity and ridiculousness, in the finest Highly &
kayloulee tradition. At least I can honestly say there is no one I would rather be having this kind of routine fail with than K?
This morning:
- attempted to pick up parcel from Post Office, only to discover they've moved their opening hours, previously 10-12, to 9-11 on Saturdays.
- went and signed me up to the local library
- indulged in our favourite local pastime, poking around in junk shops and the Salvos. Ostensibly we were looking for a larger mixing bowl, but mostly, we were gawking at Cheap Junk. I predict we will still be doing this when we're seventy-odd, together or apart. We will probably buy hideous things and send them to our grandchildren. Or K's grandchildren, anyway.
- bought a stack of fruit and crackers and dip.
Then we, er, farted about for the afternoon. I most definitely did not write any thesis.
After a while I decided to make cookies. This is what the process looked like:
- roughly 5.15: decide to make cookies
- tidy up the cupboard, expel funky potato and associated smell
- commence beating butter.
- beaters short out and refuse to go.
- Amy marches up the road and buys more beaters.
- come home, sort out new beaters.
- Just as Amy gets the new beaters going, a text message bips.
- Ignore
- Finish mixing cookies
- Put one small batch in the oven
- Wash up
- Check phone
- It's asking if we're free to go to a concert. Check with K. MUST GO.
- It's just past 6pm. Concert is at 7.
- Go into a flurry of panic. Change clothes. Snack. Put away cooking stuff. Take cookies out of oven.
- Power-walk to station.
- Arrive 6.30.
- Train does not leave for 25 minutes.
- Give up. Go home.
On the bright side, the man downstairs gave us ice cream. At least we got something out of it?
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This morning:
- attempted to pick up parcel from Post Office, only to discover they've moved their opening hours, previously 10-12, to 9-11 on Saturdays.
- went and signed me up to the local library
- indulged in our favourite local pastime, poking around in junk shops and the Salvos. Ostensibly we were looking for a larger mixing bowl, but mostly, we were gawking at Cheap Junk. I predict we will still be doing this when we're seventy-odd, together or apart. We will probably buy hideous things and send them to our grandchildren. Or K's grandchildren, anyway.
- bought a stack of fruit and crackers and dip.
Then we, er, farted about for the afternoon. I most definitely did not write any thesis.
After a while I decided to make cookies. This is what the process looked like:
- roughly 5.15: decide to make cookies
- tidy up the cupboard, expel funky potato and associated smell
- commence beating butter.
- beaters short out and refuse to go.
- Amy marches up the road and buys more beaters.
- come home, sort out new beaters.
- Just as Amy gets the new beaters going, a text message bips.
- Ignore
- Finish mixing cookies
- Put one small batch in the oven
- Wash up
- Check phone
- It's asking if we're free to go to a concert. Check with K. MUST GO.
- It's just past 6pm. Concert is at 7.
- Go into a flurry of panic. Change clothes. Snack. Put away cooking stuff. Take cookies out of oven.
- Power-walk to station.
- Arrive 6.30.
- Train does not leave for 25 minutes.
- Give up. Go home.
On the bright side, the man downstairs gave us ice cream. At least we got something out of it?