mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

albatross biscuits

Albatross Biscuits sounds like a great band name. So does thirteen angry magpies, which I had to contend with yesterday, but I digress. Those albatross biscuits are the bickies of constant return, the bickies nobody wants, and I really can't understand it because they're nice looking chunky chocolate chip jobbies. First they were refused when no one showed up apres funeral, then I took them into work and nobody was there. So my brother took them into both his workplaces and they were refused because they already had better bickies (they've very posh) or they were all allergic and everything. So I've taken them into work today and I still can't give them away. Arrrgh!

Anyway, the thirteen angry magpies were very angry indeed, not having been fed on Monday, and they were lucky to be fed yesterday as I was only home during daylight because I'd just come to complete stop like the Duracell/Energiser Bunny (depending on your country of origin) and I felt like crap. So I decided to have a nice cup of tea and watch the sunset but no, it was a little too Hitchcock for that. Those darn magpies have had 11 babies. Obviously mother was feeding them too well. I've also got a very tame kookaburra plus family (the sound of the young 'un being taught how to laugh is hilarious) and a few of the old currawongs, and a crow. Not to mention the meat eating pidgeon which really freaks me out.

Oh, one of my brother's posh trendy inner city friends wants to sate her need to garden with our garden. Sure, the more the merrier, because it really needs to be re-designed to be less, er, intensive. It was fine while Mum was at home because she did nothing but potter about in it, but now, well, aside from feeling like I've been sentenced to spend the rest of me natural pulling up privet, I'm just not winning the war on weeds. Even worse were all those ads in the Sunday papers about the wickedness of having proscribed weeds in one's garden. It's a 60s/70s garden - it's nothing but. I mean, how do you think they all ended up proscribed weeds in the first place? Sigh.

Anyoo, work = blah, watched Doctor Who, Time Team, Buffy, a bit of Bones (in between doing stuff). Would like to do something for myself other than sit in front of the box for fifteen minute breaks, but alas, no time and not really feeling at all well, anyway (as in I've got a headache and I'd be all cross and not enjoy it).

Really tired fer starters, and also starting to get a bit verklempt at odd moments, which is really inconvenient, especially as everyone is understanding up until the funeral, when I was okay because I had Things To Do, but now I'm all wibbly but everyone expects me to be back giving my usual 250% and I don't wanna.

I was especially furious at being forced to stay back really late on Monday. Not only did it make me feel far worse, but I promised I'd be home early because Himself isn't used to a dark empty house and finds it distressing (I did nightschool and lived with a man who didn't love me so I'm used to moping in dark rooms alone). Nor was I happy about having to iron late at night, either (not my best work, I gotta say). Yeah, I've also inherited the ironing of his shirts. Sigh (my stuff is all very low ironing impact cause I've always done my stuff, since age six).

Anyway, it was going down to my old offices which are also going to be my new offices and seeing all the cafes I used to meet Mum in for tea and cakes, when we used to do that sort of thing. All those cakes - no wonder I've dropped a dress size or two (though the recent cake we had to eat ourselves did not help).

Oh well, better go start wrestling with those css files (think Tarzan vs an aligator, only I think the gator's gonna win).
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