Falling into the Weekend

I’m going to write a novel, where there is a department that gives out certificates for grown-ups who have succeeded in adulting for an entire week. I’m thinking there could be different levels of certificate too – from outstanding and consistent sensibleness, through “not being found out”, to some sort of “at least you turned up” trophy.

I would probably be the person that never gets any of the awards, and tries not to look to bitter as the usual suspects walk up to receive theirs every damn week.

Anyway. What’s been going on since yesterday? (because of course you want to know about every waking moment of every day I get through as we hurtle around the sun on this ball of mud).

After working from home throughout yesterday while my nose attempted to block itself solid, I somehow found myself recording and editing podcasts until 2am this morning. In the grand tradition of everything I do, I had to re-upload one of the episodes three times, after realising I had made all sorts of mistakes in post-production. I really am my own worst enemy at times.

I told the world about the podcast today. Ok, maybe not the world – but I posted in public on Facebook about it. I imagine some people probably dropped their spoon in their cornflakes – wondering if I could get any more nerdy. Actually – thinking about it – I didn’t post the note until after lunch, so the likelihood of them eating cornflakes after lunch is pretty remote. You never know though – I’ve eaten cornflakes for supper in the past.

Somebody I used to work with kept a box of cornflakes under his desk in the office – or at least he thought he did. Unfortunately an intrepid scout-mouse had discovered the box of delights at some point, and emptied it across the floor. For weeks afterwards we had mouse traps around the office, but never caught anything. I imagine the mouse exploded after eating a kilogram of cornflakes.

I’ll shut up now.

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