Aug. 29th, 2010

desperance: (Default)
I might just about be ready to give up on today.

I hate to do this. If I'm not working and not going out, I'd like at least to do something useful around the house - and it is not as though there were nothing to do. Not by a long chalk. But none of that is happening either, apparently. Most I've managed all day is a loaf of bread. And all I had to do was bake that; the prep work was all done yesterday.

Otherwise I have not-listened to the cricket (oy: an astonishing test match, from hopeless situation to miraculous record-setting in all directions, and all of its merits wiped out by greed and manipulation by people who care nothing for the game) and not-watched the Grand Prix (oh, Ferrari: where are the black horses of yesteryear?), and that's about it. I think I shall recline wanly on my sofa of soreness (that's kind of like a bed of pain, but a little more self-indulgent) and watch movies until bored or until bedtime, whichever shall come sooner.

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desperance

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