Grumble, groan, mutter...

[desperance]

I don't know what's wrong with me today. I have committed bureaucracy three times over, which makes three things that I don't have hanging over me to do (unless or until they all three get sent back, which is actually possible but out of my hands); I have written some, and intend to write more at any moment (if diminishing Dracula for kids counts as 'writing'; I find it oddly interesting, at any rate); I still have residual pleasures from the concert of Chinese music last night. I should be fine and satisfied. And yet, and yet I am almost entirely seized with gloom. Again. "In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; it wearies me; you say it wearies you." Story of my life, in iambic pentameter. Clever sod.

Also, the cats have stolen the cap of my thumb-drive. I'm fairly sure that this is ironic comment on the fact that I have no count 'em no properly opposable thumbs at the moment. Life is amazingly difficult when you can't trust either one of your thumbs. Just getting dressed is difficult. Buttons, zips, laces...