Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Good old life
The axe fell on number 244, the strange, spacious flat where I've idled away more than a year. In several sweaty trips, I moved my stuff to another property just around the corner - a total journey of about 25 yards.
The new place already having occupants, I'm in a spare room. No bed, so I had to buy an airbed. Internet reception not so good, so I have to spend a fair amount of time at the local net cafe.
It is also fairly spidery: a human accidentally consumes on average 100 spiders during their lifetime. I've probably managed that in the last week.
***
Went into the net cafe yesterday to plan my Tuesday morning business IT lecture. My Google account wasn't working.
It seems my mail address had been compromised and all of my contacts consequently spammed. I'm convinced this is down to spyware on one of the cafe's machines. Gritting my teeth, I changed all my passwords and got on with my research as best I could.
Sadly, this turned out not to be easy: a collection of loutish foreign students were in there getting drunk and being loud and obnoxious. Giving the research up, I went home and sat in bed practising new songs on my ukulele.
***
In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge.
Sidonie Gabrielle Colette
***
At four in the morning, the phone buzz interrupts my fitful dozing. It is the mum - apparently my car has had its windows smashed, presumably by someone who didn't get any valentines.
The silver lining to this particular nebula is that the malefactors have been apprehended by the brave boys in blue and are, I unworthily hope, getting a taste of egyptian democracy in the cells.
I send a quick text of acknowledgment to the mum and settle back onto the airbed, which promptly explodes.
Both bed and I exhale loudly as I am lowered reverentially to the floor. I'm now so downtrodden I can't even manage a curse. I shift my bedclothes onto my exercise mat and make the best of the remaining hours of darkness. It will take more than life to kill me.
The new place already having occupants, I'm in a spare room. No bed, so I had to buy an airbed. Internet reception not so good, so I have to spend a fair amount of time at the local net cafe.
It is also fairly spidery: a human accidentally consumes on average 100 spiders during their lifetime. I've probably managed that in the last week.
***
Went into the net cafe yesterday to plan my Tuesday morning business IT lecture. My Google account wasn't working.
It seems my mail address had been compromised and all of my contacts consequently spammed. I'm convinced this is down to spyware on one of the cafe's machines. Gritting my teeth, I changed all my passwords and got on with my research as best I could.
Sadly, this turned out not to be easy: a collection of loutish foreign students were in there getting drunk and being loud and obnoxious. Giving the research up, I went home and sat in bed practising new songs on my ukulele.
***
In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge.
Sidonie Gabrielle Colette
***
At four in the morning, the phone buzz interrupts my fitful dozing. It is the mum - apparently my car has had its windows smashed, presumably by someone who didn't get any valentines.
The silver lining to this particular nebula is that the malefactors have been apprehended by the brave boys in blue and are, I unworthily hope, getting a taste of egyptian democracy in the cells.
I send a quick text of acknowledgment to the mum and settle back onto the airbed, which promptly explodes.
Both bed and I exhale loudly as I am lowered reverentially to the floor. I'm now so downtrodden I can't even manage a curse. I shift my bedclothes onto my exercise mat and make the best of the remaining hours of darkness. It will take more than life to kill me.
Labels: EVIL, IMPENDING DOOM, MOMENTS, SELF PRESERVATION
