2007 — 17 December: freezing Monday, heh?
Time is 01:17 and, just for a change, I've been doing a spot of thinking.1
Some of the thoughts revolve around my next few days of activity, and the happy idea that inter alia I could even resume re-ripping the contents of the last four cartons of CDs currently cluttering up Junior's lebensraum — I stopped this, and several other suddenly trivial-seeming hobbies, back in July on the day we got poor Christa's diagnosis. When everything is nestling on that Western Digital drive it will be time to discuss the thorny issue of off-site secure storage with my friend Cathy! I'm sure we can come to some "accommodation".
On second thought2 I'm becoming a little paranoid about locking myself out of the house when I'm its only occupant. (And it's a very difficult house to break back into without a sledgehammer thanks to the equal paranoia of our insurance companies over the years.) My final thought (before bed, at least) is I'd better get the milk bottle in before the stuff freezes solid. It ruins the cornflakes otherwise. Knocks them flying in all directions. Goodness me, it's f-f-freezing out there.
Everyone could use a bit of Bad Science in their life. I also found a nice Philip Pullman quote which made me snort:
Your life begins when you are born, but your life story begins at that moment when you discover that you are in the wrong family.
Kitchen sink philosophy
Always do the dishes3 on the Sunday evening; it's just so depressing to meet a pile of the things on a Monday morning. (I now see why Christa was always so pleased that I did this; how can I be so silly not to do so for my own benefit?) And don't do them while wearing your nice, thick-sleeved dressing gown. The sleeves get awfully wet.
A second witty line in one day. Excellent:
A man must swallow a toad every morning if he wishes to be sure of finding nothing still more disgusting before the day is over.
Now where can I find a toad on such a cold morning?
Visitors
Two of Big Bro's daughters4 are descending on me for lunch tomorrow. It may sound trivial but, for the first time in my life I can say "Great! I'll drive out and pick you up from the station." How cool and grown-up is that, I ask you? What larks, Pip ol' chum, what larks! I get to do my Uncle act, which has been all too rarely exercised over the years. Time to excavate a clean shirt.
Booty
It wouldn't really be natural not to acquire something or other in the A/V line at about this time of year. If you recall my much-used Panasonic DVD recorder is heading for the great bit bucket in the sky. It has therefore today been ousted by a younger sibling: the DMR-EX77EB. My goal is to have it installed and running in time for the Abigail's Party material on BBC4 later tonight.
One of my chums (thanks, Gill) sent me a YouTube link to a wonderful parody variant of the 12 days of Christmas. See what you think — it lives here. Mind you, everyone else probably found this months or years ago.