oiran: cherry blossom (Default)
Each time I try to post something, I am so overwhelmed by the backlog of Things To Tell You that I can do nothing but whine about something small, petty and containable in a sentence or two, i.e, the software for my stupid little Bluetooth dongle will not install correctly and keeps telling me that I have no license to use it and then shuts itself smugly down. I have a goddamn license, thank you very much, and if I could punch someone in the face after shouting those very words, I know I'd feel a hell of a lot better about my continued inability to get wallpaper transferred from my computer to my phone.

And in other news, we are apparently overrun by tiny, darling, charcoal-brown mice that have no interest whatsoever in eating the food in the traps, though they seem determined to populate foodless areas, such as the region to the immediate left of my laptop (hello, little friend!), or the bathroom, especially when it is in use. I know they are vermin, and I know we have to do something more dramatic than traps, probably, but they are so cute. Like little scurrying velvet buttons. One of my favorite stories of all time is the Beatrix Potter tale of Hunca-Munca, a little mouse who trashes a dollhouse with her husband. It's pretty rock-and-roll, considering.

Yet another person has moved from a perfectly good place in order to live here in Nashville. We did nothing to dissuade her, and apparently she's happy with her decision. I just don't get it.

See, it's so peripheral, what I end up talking about. In an attempt to recap: there was a trip. There were out-of-town visitors from various places and at various times. I got stupid drunk a time or two. I learned new skills with, unfortunately, little practical application. I WROTE, which is kind of a big one, actually. I took naps.

Okay, I can't stand it. That Bluetooth thing is mocking me with its stupid blue light and nonsensical error messages. I am going to go get a rock and smash things like a cavewoman. Either that, or escape via nap.
oiran: cherry blossom (Default)
Each time I try to post something, I am so overwhelmed by the backlog of Things To Tell You that I can do nothing but whine about something small, petty and containable in a sentence or two, i.e, the software for my stupid little Bluetooth dongle will not install correctly and keeps telling me that I have no license to use it and then shuts itself smugly down. I have a goddamn license, thank you very much, and if I could punch someone in the face after shouting those very words, I know I'd feel a hell of a lot better about my continued inability to get wallpaper transferred from my computer to my phone.

And in other news, we are apparently overrun by tiny, darling, charcoal-brown mice that have no interest whatsoever in eating the food in the traps, though they seem determined to populate foodless areas, such as the region to the immediate left of my laptop (hello, little friend!), or the bathroom, especially when it is in use. I know they are vermin, and I know we have to do something more dramatic than traps, probably, but they are so cute. Like little scurrying velvet buttons. One of my favorite stories of all time is the Beatrix Potter tale of Hunca-Munca, a little mouse who trashes a dollhouse with her husband. It's pretty rock-and-roll, considering.

Yet another person has moved from a perfectly good place in order to live here in Nashville. We did nothing to dissuade her, and apparently she's happy with her decision. I just don't get it.

See, it's so peripheral, what I end up talking about. In an attempt to recap: there was a trip. There were out-of-town visitors from various places and at various times. I got stupid drunk a time or two. I learned new skills with, unfortunately, little practical application. I WROTE, which is kind of a big one, actually. I took naps.

Okay, I can't stand it. That Bluetooth thing is mocking me with its stupid blue light and nonsensical error messages. I am going to go get a rock and smash things like a cavewoman. Either that, or escape via nap.

December 2011

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