"Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society."
Monday: I seem to have emerged from my weekend somewhat bruised. I thought I was doing quite well, coping with everything that was thrown at me, but, as with all things, one finally came to the tipping point.
Oh yeah, I also saw saw Mr Collins. Not that Mr Collins. This Mr Collins.
Saturday I was not well, not by a long shot, yet I persisted in going out so I might not talk to friends (largely my fault that, as I had to keep making urgent trips to the loo queue without pause for explanation or pardon), dissed by beloved actors who took an odd set against me (as always, fuck knows what I did wrong, but I did it, and in public, too), manhandled by security (doing nothing more sinister than trying to chat to a friend in a public area) and it sounds like I had a woeful time but on the whole I didn't. I was quite out of it and so I sat and listened obediently, queued obediently and I found the day passed quietly and with interest. The old cafe was still there (did I mention it was my old campus?) so I managed a restorative cuppa at midday and went and sat and listened some more. I was just pleased to get through it without too much fuss, but missed that I couldn't sit near folks (mind you, where I was sitting wasn't too bad). Probably just as well as I'd have no doubt been snarled at for talking in class, or something.
Oh, it sounds like I didn't enjoy it, I sort of did even if I just went through the motions and attended to the funny stories, it was passable enough. I did enjoy the taxi ride home though, very much so. The bus just poked its head around the corner when I'd finally hailed a cab but the driver was lovely and I was tired and he was playing Chinese folk songs, which I liked, and I tried to guess what each was about and I guessed well and he thanked me for my interest and said I was clever to guess at the what the songs were about (it wasn't that hard, but I'll take anything that isn't mean this week) and he knocked a few dollars off the fare at the end. So that was fun, really fun, and educational.
Sunday was less fun as I was less well but Himself fussed over me astoundingly well as I was pinned to the couch doing the whole invalid thing (but I think we've learnt by now that quietly does it). I had lots of "special" teas and watched some stuff of the IQ, about all I could manage. I did hobble out to water the garden in the afternoon sun and I was thinking it was nice until I was smacked so hard with a grapefruit from next door I nearly went over. I'll never know who threw them because after that I took cover and dodged but that first one struck me so hard and fast surely it couldn't have just been those evll little fucktards but one of the supposed and alleged "parents". In any case, stuck several times I finally burst into tears. I guess you could I say I took everything the week threw at me on the chin until the grapefruits. It really hurt, though. Got me right on the shoulder and I can't move my arm properly, which is just what I need. Why do people hate me so much? I was just watering the garden, making no noise aside from a soft sprinkling.
So I spent the evening wrapped up once again in the dressing gown, on the couch, with a hot water bottle. Watched Merlin (sort of, was a bit distracted) but was held in my seat by Dr Who and those scary, scary weeping angels. Cracking episode, that. Then I set the machine for Foyle's War and watched instead Bones and Castle. I know, Foyle's War, far superior, but I was in the mood for stupid, and I got it in spades. The Bones episode reminded me of the infamous Coogee aquarium case and the Castle one about the Late Night wars wasn't a spot as vicious or crazy as the real thing, alas. Oh well, at least Dr Who was blindingly good.
AM update. Oh dear. I thought I'd try and cheer myself up by redeeming my free coffee voucher at the new coffee shop, so off I snuck, only to be told by a colleague they'd been shut down last week for health violations. And I've just opened a nasty letter from the council. Another week, nastier than last? Why?
Meanwhile, I've adopted a possum, though I've been told to unadopt him as he's really noisy at night. It was when I was up late making the marmalade last Monday and something banged on the back door. Alarmed, as you would be, I scanned about with a torch and found a harrassed looking possum who'd been savaged by a cat (but a week ago because his wounds were raw, not fresh) wanting food and water, which I gave him, and got a really fed up look for my pains when I checked up on him to make sure he was taking it.
Anyway, the Peanut Gallery did not believe me until he was up the next night and there came the thumps on the back door. Stumpy is a demanding young fellow. However a week later Stumpy seems to have regained the spring in his step and I'm instructed to now wind down the attention as the happy dancing possum magic is keeping the Peanut Gallery awake. Oh dear. Oh well. Hey, I never knew brush tailed possums were so big, I've never seen one that close up before.
Oh, one thing I did watch over the weekend was Bonekickers. Yes, I know, but it's not as dire as some shows I've sat through in my less discriminating youth, and Hugh Bonneville, as the spot on lecherous lecturer, just really sells it for me. Clearly it's aimed at the demographic who both adore Mr Bonneville and Time Team and I think that's just me, but never mind. I'll sit through anything for one of Hugh's grumbles. Hilarious.
Just popped down to the bookshop. Can you really call yourself a bookshop if you possess no copy of Pride and Prejudice? I mean, really? Yes, I already have a copy, but that's my copy, from tearstained teenaged days, and thus, for reasons of sentimentality and fragility, cannot be bounced around in the bottom of a backpack on the bus. It just will not do. So I was looking for a cheap copy, or any frggin' copy at this stage, as I decided the other day on the bus I needed nothing so much as another shot of P&P right now, stat. But do you think I could put my hands on a copy of said book in this vacuous bottle blonde fake tan city??? Do you need ask? Grumble, grumble, grump, grump.
I did spot a book on Chang and Eng on the way out and it took me a moment to place the names (age, dearie, all that acquired knowledge, gone to dust) and I was suddenly reminded that Carnivale is on tonight. Jonesy. I wonder if Mr DeKay would ever realise or care that for him alone I chose not to walk under a bus (because I'm really having a day/week/month and I'm as sore as hell and somewhat overwhelmed). I wonder if actors can ever realise just how very special they are to us in certain moments. I guess not. But sometimes, just sometimes, they give us leave to dream, to hope, to wonder. In those moments, they are like gods. But they'll never know. And maybe they shouldn't.
Astute viewers will naturally insert the alternative lyrics where appropriate.
Friday: As you might imagine, not my best week ever. Of course, it always has to be that one time I forgot to unplug it, that one time I didn't backup. Bugger. I can cope with just about all of it bar last week's several wet lunch hours worth of fic. That I cannot re-do (well, I can, but it won't be the same, and probably worse). It's a real blow, because I was really pushing on with them. Also lost a week's worth of links, not that important to anyone but me, and piccies downloaded, ditto (a quick trawl through a certain celeb site should sort that, if I had the time and effort free to expend).
Yesterday I was doing the whole Chuck thing, ie lying on the couch in my dressing gown watching tv all day, sans the big tub of cheeseballs though. It was hot water bottle day and while I was trying to rescue USB I just gave up and sulked and pouted instead. Hooray for Fox Classics, though. Turkey episode of High Chaparral (much Blue fondling), Mannix was doing the old 48 hour poison episode and Maverick played the first Bart episode (mucho de towel flicking, but it was cool).
Also watched, since I was too unwell for sleep, the first disk of Misfits. It's sort of like the British kitchen sink version of Heroes. I kinda liked it, cheesy, boozy and sweary though it is. I tittered over "best left between you and your internet service provider" and decided that yes, there probably is a reason why one of the lads is being Ian Curtis redux, aside from an excuse to play Joy division in the soundtrack. I particularly enjoyed the insult that went something like "I'm gonna kick you in the c**t so hard your mother will feel it". If El diablo, my bastard c**t of a pc was a person, that would just about be the sentiment right now.
Probably best I lost the blog entry I was working on, as it was a real friend ender, but, well, there you go. I'm still oddly and unreasonably furious about the whole thing, as it shouldn't matter at all, but I do dislike being snarled at for wanting to order one of my very favourite dishes, especially as it was a rare treat for me (or at least, I thought that was the idea). Who died and made you my mother?
I'm just really over being micromanaged and corrected to that extent, especially as I'm only just beginning to learn what I actually like, and what I don't. There was a whole thing where I whined about not even being allowed to know what my favourite colour was: it's orange, I've decided, btw. But basically, I'm just really, totally, utterly over the whole Professor Henry Higgins deal and the next gentleman who tries it on will be extracting his slippers from his cranium (or other parts of his anatomy).
Pity, because otherwise, Sunday was brilliant. The old fruit seller is right, foggy days brighten up marvellously and it was all golden and I was making cumquat and champagne marmalade again while listening to Dr Who on cd. Troughton remains my fave Doc and the one with the Daleks serving cups of tea seemed oddly familiar (it was all going so well until one of those blond bimbo Thalls ordered a skinny soy decaf - grin). I did love the Daleks twisting their little tentacles in knots trying to be all servile - hilarious. The Yeti one was way cool, too, though you need a Tube map to follow it. Anyway, yes, more booze than fruit but I'm pleased with the results, and mostly my cumquats, too (one day all my trees will ripen in synch - yeah, right).
Just came back from the park, covered in leaves, looking very Worzel Gummidge - surprised I didn't run into anyone as it's usually the case and I seem to be Murphy's butt monkey this week. I was trying to reconstruct missing scenes. Bastard, bastard job. So stilted, clumsy and unhappy.
Oh well, Lewis tonight. That I do have backed up. I think. I hope. Maybe.
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