I’m worried about myself. I sort of pledged to myself that I wouldn’t be doing any 365 challenge crap ever again but that’s exactly what I appear to be doing. Fortunately, there were no witnesses to my pledge, and
dead men tell no lies the cat doesn’t talk. So here’s another week’s worth of a photo a day on my Instagram.
12 Feb: Based on this post, it looks like I’ve been somewhere. But where the fuck? That much to my idea of taking a photo a day lest I forget. Instead, notice the cute yellow circle in the picture, perhaps the remainder of a manhole.
13 Feb: I took a picture of my key collection. I’m not sure what all these are good for, presumably nothing. In fact, I only need a total of three keys. It’s not like I’m a key master.
14 Feb: Scratch that. I totally am a key master. The post of the janitor comes bundled with a manual on what to do in case of fire (I haven’t read it yet—neither do I intend to) and with an array of keys. Make your pick.
15 Feb: My cat hates me. Should I still have any doubts about this, she gave me this cold stare when I was going aww at her. Zip it up, human.
16 Feb: Normal people go to a pub on Fridays, mental people colour mandalas. I recommend you stick to the pub.
17 Feb: The highlight of the day was the flawless perfection which I achieved when bagging my groceries. That’s Tetris OCD-style. I doubt that there are many people who reach this level of professionalism in tetris for grown-ups.
18 Feb: My life couldn’t possibly get better. I got a super cute case for my beloved phone, on which said phone thought it a great idea to start dying on me. Note to self: be aware that no phone lasts more than two years because that’s how the fucking things work these days.