My own personal storm cloud. Well, that's what it was. As I was getting ready for work I was greeted by the sound of rolling thunder. By the time I was out the door it was just bucketing down, and all I had was my $2 raincoat, which, don't get me wrong, is superior to other expensive raincoats I've owned, but still no match for a deluge, and as I said, I'm adverse to putting my umbrella up and waving a metal stick at the sky when there's lightning flying about.
So I get on the bus and my weekly ticket won't work, being overly soggy, inspite of being kept in a pocket, which is also soggy. The bus driver lectures me sternly on keeping my ticket dry.
"How?" I snap back at him while dripping profusely, "I don't have a bus shelter." He actually gets out of his seat to have a go but I flee up the back of the bus, rain coat trailing.
Of course, by the time I arrive at the station we're in stick dry, dawn pink climes and everyone is looking at me as a raincoat wearing freak. Hmph.
An hour later though and my storm has caught up with me at work and it's rolling and flashing out there and throwing handfuls of rain at the window. Good. At least I don't have to explain the dripping raincoat slung over my spare guest chair (no coat hooks here).
Wore me Docs, too, for the first time in like three months. Thumped them on the ground quite thoroughly to make sure no critters had taken roost. Ah, old friends, dear, faithful, friends, perfect for walking through puddles and muddy grass (I may have to actually mow the lawn for the first time in nearly a year, as we have grass for the first time in nearly a year - we sacrificed the lawn to use our water ration on the azaleas.)
Had to loosen the laces over the poor ankle, and it's still mighty sore, but the bloody thing was giving me jib just sitting on the floor wrapping presents last night (it was so hot that it was a couple of degrees cooler to sit on the floor than in a chair, always has been in that old house).
TV? Stuff all, especially as I was trapped in the the main room, trying to coax my ftp to prog to connect and open up my folders, but the bastard was having none of it. At some point during the night Bro put on Skippy. Ye gods, but it's bad, but in a really campy so bad it's hilarious way, and it's high on the nostalgia, just to try and work out the locations - all of the bush and farmland shown is under housing now. For some reason the Hammond's fluffy green throw rug amused me most of all, but by this stage I'd been wrestling with a hot and cranky PC for three hours and must have been punchy. Definitely a must see, especially the Frank Thring episodes. Classic! Whoever put the dvd together knew exactly which episodes to pick (the silliest ones).
There was a bang and a shuddering thump last night and we thought one of the possums must have been putting on weight and/or made a clumsy dismount from the tree onto the roof, but it turns out it was a mild quake. Well, fancy that. So I didn't imagine the tremours on Wednesday.
No reading or writing as it was too hot and by the time midnight came around I was too tired to finish what I was doing, let alone anything else.
I wish I'd worn this outfit to the wrap party. I look almost human in it, and though it be my bright purple shirt and midnight blue long skirt, grabbed at random this morning because I was sick of brown or green, at least, weirdly, it doesn't make me look like Veruca, the girl who turned into a giant blueberry in Willie Wonka. Or maybe I really have lost some weight. Since seeing those hideous bloated pics I've been existing on rations of one fig, six pecans and three glasses of water daily, plus dinner. Miserable, but at least I don't look like Ms Michelin quite so much right now.
Saw an ad for some hair removal device that consisted of circular fine grain pads attached to a motor. This, girls, is a sander. They want me to sand my legs with a power tool. Hello, is that the number for the Human Rights Commission? I mean, good grief, what's next? Though it's sad that I knew what is was. Yep, can't put on makeup, can't wear high heels, but I can use all the power tools in the shed. I might as well put up a poster of Angelina Jolie and be done with it. Never been a girlie girl, but just as well, since I have to be the man of the house. At least this rain'll get me out of doing the gutters tonight.
Man, that was some lightning. A big office rocking roll of thunder, too. I thought that hit close. Storm's still going, and my chill has turned into a nasty cold. Damn, now I'll be all cross and I won't enjoy it.
You are a Theory Slut. The true elite of the
postmodernists, you collect avant-garde
Indonesian hiphop compilations and eat journal
articles for breakfast. You positively live
for theory. It really doesn't matter what
kind, as long as the words are big and the
paragraph breaks few and far between.
What kind of postmodernist are you!?
brought to you by Quizilla
Your dominant hues are green and blue. You're smart and you know it, and want to use your power to help people and relate to others. Even though you tend to battle with yourself, you solve other people's conflicts well.
Your saturation level is very high - you are all about getting things done. The world may think you work too hard but you have a lot to show for it, and it keeps you going. You shouldn't be afraid to lead people, because if you're doing it, it'll be done right.
Your outlook on life can be bright or dark, depending on the situation. You are flexible and see things objectively.