I'm trying to motivate myself to tidy up a bit around here. I think it's a losing battle, but it does need doing. I've washed my bed sheets tonight for the first time in about... well, it must be four months at least. People tend to find that a quite unpleasant detail, for some reason. It's not like the Queen's coming round, it's just my brother, but it's nice to clean up every once in a while - for one thing, if I end up moving out of here it'll be less of a job to pack up and get the flat more or less into the kind of condition I got it in. Not that I think I have any hope of getting my deposit back, it's just not in me to clean things that thoroughly.
I'm feeling under pressure to write something entertaining at the moment, because Jeremy Dyer has kindly posted a link to this blog on the British Othello mailing list. I hate the idea of people I know actually reading this thing, for some reason. Which makes you wonder why I'm writing it at all, but hey, I'm a complex character. Or completely insane, one or the other. I can only write interesting entries when I'm not imagining anyone reading the end product.
1 comment:
I forget that people are going to read it. It gets me into trouble.
Plus they read it to check up on you and generally act insane.
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