Not so much earwormed as woodwormed

[desperance]

I really do feel like the subject line sometimes: as though certain rhythms, pulses, patterns have been bored through the trunk of my retained experience, the whole 3-D trail of my life as defined in words and music: so that I was actually singing to the boys this morning (well, hell, they were singing to me, for it was breakfast time), and the burthen of my song went

O the brewing of the coffee
And the breakfast of the boys:
Of all the hours we spend in the kitchen
The first one matters most

- and it was only then that I went all "Wait, what? What was that? Something Christmas - carol - oh, right, The Holly and the Ivy. Maybe that's because I keep thinking about the Christmas Mars story - but no, wait, I do this all the time, don't I? That's one of my embedded metres..."

Anyway, there it was. And I did briefly think it might be the most creative thing I produced all day, because I got to the library and all my tables were occupied, and I hate that so much, I was this close to just giving up and going home. But instead here I am, sitting at the wrong table and noodling with a different Mars story while I download and install Firefox, for yes, I am playing with Windows 10 because it's got to be better than 8.1 (indeed, the last thing 8.1 did was fail completely to offer me the automatic download and upgrade for 10, so I took that as a sign and did it manually instead). I'd still rather be in Linux, but it's problematic on this machine and in honesty it does me no actual harm to keep tolerably current in Windows, against those days when I am far from home and using other people's equipment. Of course I could play Supergeek and carry Ubuntu and my chosen software around on a thumb drive, and hack other people's hardware to amaze and instruct - but that's just annoying.

Other people are also annoying, mind. This is not a quiet day at the library, and I'm still not getting any work done worth speaking of. Snarl.

Comments

[movingfinger]

"The Bear Went Over The Mountain" is also very good for lyric-repurposing purposes.

[desperance]

Also conflation: I have been known to find myself chanting "The bear went over the mou-ountain - which nobody can deny. Which nobody can deny, which nobody can deny..." Etc.

[movingfinger]

In our house it's more like "The cat threw up in the bath-tub, the cat threw up in the bath-tub, the cat threw up in the bath-tub, not even the cat knows why" etc

[desperance]

But how convenient! Cats are excellent sometimes. (When I was a kid, our bathroom was a converted shed behind the house, with a separate entrance; our semi-feral cat used to poop in the bath quite often. Which did at least make for easy clean-up.)