Bored, bored, bored...

[desperance]

I am not, on the whole, easily bored; there's generally something interesting in my head, even when the life I lead appears to be dullest of the dull.

The vacuum, on the other hand, sucks everything remotely interesting right out. I suddenly have the attention span of a Zabriskan fontema; I'm running back here every ten minutes or less, crying "internets! amuse me! for I am desperate...!" I can tell it's that often, because the screensaver has no chance to cut in.

And the damn machine even drowns out the music. What's the good of that?

On the other hand, it does have to be admitted that the hall seems brighter when the stairs no longer resemble an autumnal forest floor. (Dead leaves, from the ficus benjaminae above: not so much fallen as stripped. Baz likes to pull 'em off and watch 'em fall down the stairwell; Mac likes to lurk at the bottom and pounce on 'em as they come down. Cooperation is better than conflict.)

Comments

[wldhrsjen3.livejournal.com]

Heh. I agree. I despise vacuuming. (And it doesn't help that my vacuum has suddenly gone all temperamental on me - we have started arguing about whether or not the dust needs to stay *inside* the machine or whether it is acceptable to simply redistribute it.)