I’m overworked. No, really, I’m always overworked but now I’m acutely overworked. That’s why I thought that before resuming work, I could grab a blogging break. Not a break from blogging but a break to blog. You know, so I could feel guilty afterwards for not having been working. Overwork is an awesome way to
The cat ruined my cushion and fell asleep at the crime scene. She doesn’t get the concept of guilt.
This is my friend’s cat. I edited her eyes awkwardly to make them more yellow, so now she looks like an alien with smudged irises.
My yesterday’s post concerning my anticipation anxiety (a fancy term for being preventively scared) about my father’s visit rose some questions. Such as, have I never met my father before? What’s wrong with my father? What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is it even all about? Let’s start chronologically. I grew up with both
I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me. —Laurence Sterne, Tristram Shandy My father is visiting tomorrow in the middle of the night. Specifically at 8 AM. This illustrates his
When it’s so quiet You think You should hear yourself breathing But you hear nothing Have you gone deaf Have you died What’s happening You’re terrified Has it ever happened to you that you thought you went deaf because you couldn’t hear any sound around? The house is quite quiet tonight and it doesn’t seem
Part of WordPress’s photography course Developing Your Eye I. Today’s photo prompt is open to abuse: it asks for a portrait of treasure. Well, if I had a treasure, the last thing I’d do is to flaunt it for thieves and murders to get. Since I don’t have a treasure though, it’s a no issue. In
I’m waiting for my bedtime and not really up to anything. So I penned a poem (so-called). I was just listening. In the middle of the night (but not midnight) The laptop is humming The old heater is crackling (but not heating properly) The cat isn’t purring (she doesn’t care she should for my poem)
Today, I woke up hot. Not sexy hot (because I’m always that — wishful positive thinking), but hot hot. If you’ve been so unfortunate and bored as to follow my complaints about malfunctioning radiators, you’ll be surprised to hear this. I was surprised to feel this. At first, I thought I’ve grown tough and got used
Something is up. Or, more likely, nothing is up and my cat is just watching the air, as per usual.