SickI've been sick all weekend and having a miserable time. I'm sure I'll be right by tomorrow, just my luck to lose the whole weekend but be healthy again for work. I get sick exactly twice a year, once about now and once in spring, and it's always on a weekend. Surely after all these millennia humans would have evolved above sickness.
Posts have been really hard to write lately. Whenever I have something to write about I don't have the motivation, and vice versa. I would never call what I do on this site journalism, but I can see why journalists get paid rather than writing for the love of it. Well, when all else fails, self-reflection makes for a great filler.
Last year was a horrible year for me. I was dirt poor, my grandparents died, my job sucked and I was living with psychos who talked to themselves as though it were a completely natural thing to do. Not just talking either, but conversations and sometimes arguments. I was sure that eventually one of them would stab me in my sleep.
This year is remarkably different. I've moved out into a new place with exorbitant rent, but it is close to everything. I swear I'm never again going to live with anyone that I'm not fucking. I've slowly been feathering my nest, which is a new thing for me. I've always lived in gulags, so I'm used to not having nice things. I bought a rug today. A rug. How splendid.
I've started my new work-from-home job. It's not sticking posters for weight loss programs on telegraph poles, or clicking a thousand advertisement links a day. It's doing the sort of thing that I usually do, except without an office, and without commuting. I end my working day while the sun is still up. I've had three jobs in six months, and I like this one the most by far.
When I've had the time I've been writing the next version of Boredomistan's software. It's taking forever, mainly because I've been rewriting Microsoft's web framework to be less stupid. If you wonder why people don't like Microsoft very much, talk to someone who uses their products. Speaking of the site, Boredomistan is about to hit a special milestone, so get ready for something, errr, special. And milestoney.
Well, that's about it. I'm going to go and cough myself to sleep.
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Whoops, I was wrong. The special milestone won't be happening soon, but in a few weeks time. Ignore that sentence and go about your business.
Not just talking either, but conversations and sometimes arguments.
Hey! I lived with someone like that, no one told me she was schitzophrenic you see, and she used to have screaming arguments with herself for hours, just outside my window.
Anyway, you work from home, what makes you think I'd be even the least bit interested in sympathising with you?
Just because you're currently fucking the person you're living with doesn't necessarily mean you won't end up getting stabbed. In fact, sometimes it's actually the reason you get stabbed.
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