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Unmade brains...
Jun. 9th, 2006 04:04 pm( I hate everything, only I'm mostly better now... )
In any case, I was in a sufficiently bad mood at work that Steve decided cheering me up was best accomplished by inspiring me to attack him with my shovel. I pointed out that this would merely give me something better to get upset about, especially as if I were to kill him, then I'd have to kill Brian as well, and bury both of them, and it would just be far more work on a day when I'd rather just go home and sleep anyway. But for some reason the conversation went on to encompass the similarity between making up one's mind (or making one's mind, a distinction which got lost yesterday when Steve insisted that I had a mind all my own which was made long before he got to it and decided for me that I wanted the other shovel...) and making a bed. Steve's mind has not been slept in for years. Apparently it's been having an affair with the mind next door in his head.
Oh, and incidentally, whatever Steve may say, I do not lust after Brian's Musell book. It is a very nice (brand new! not smeared with dried mud so you can't see the colors!) one, but there are far better things in the world for me to lust after...
At any rate, now I am home and clean (yay!) though that'll only last so long, what with melees tomorrow, and my hair is freshly washed and interesting pink things have happened to it... results to be determined when it drys and I can see what color it turned out. (Don't worry; it'll wash out in a month or two in any case.) Now on to the finishing of at least one fencing shirt...
In any case, I was in a sufficiently bad mood at work that Steve decided cheering me up was best accomplished by inspiring me to attack him with my shovel. I pointed out that this would merely give me something better to get upset about, especially as if I were to kill him, then I'd have to kill Brian as well, and bury both of them, and it would just be far more work on a day when I'd rather just go home and sleep anyway. But for some reason the conversation went on to encompass the similarity between making up one's mind (or making one's mind, a distinction which got lost yesterday when Steve insisted that I had a mind all my own which was made long before he got to it and decided for me that I wanted the other shovel...) and making a bed. Steve's mind has not been slept in for years. Apparently it's been having an affair with the mind next door in his head.
Oh, and incidentally, whatever Steve may say, I do not lust after Brian's Musell book. It is a very nice (brand new! not smeared with dried mud so you can't see the colors!) one, but there are far better things in the world for me to lust after...
At any rate, now I am home and clean (yay!) though that'll only last so long, what with melees tomorrow, and my hair is freshly washed and interesting pink things have happened to it... results to be determined when it drys and I can see what color it turned out. (Don't worry; it'll wash out in a month or two in any case.) Now on to the finishing of at least one fencing shirt...