I desire chocolate! In further news, nothing has really been happening. I awoke today with bizarre summer congestion and a very constricted throat, which is still feeling a little on the swelly side, so I have lazed about in my pyjamas all day, being forced to take a hideous decongestant by my nurse-and-mother-like husband, who has been very firm and no-nonsense, and not in the sexy way.

I was feeling better in the evening and entrusted my dinner to the internet. That is to say I made dinner based on an internet recipe. Now I know I have a bit of a bad track record with cooking food, but tonight's chicken satay tasted basically like rice smeared with peanut butter. And chicken. Most of my dinner is still sitting in the rice bowl in the living room, congealing itself into a vaguely terrifying mess. Tomorrow it will have reproduced and may be singing oriental showtunes. Zoomspouse ate dutifully, as he does.

I had good intentions to write a lot and tidy up and shower before K got home tonight from homogroup, but a friend called and we talked for an hour and he sabotaged EVERYTHING. You see that, Keith? You SABOTAGED EVERYTHING. Darn right you did. My revenge will be far into the future, but it will be sweet. You will be forced to eat leftover chicken satay. Until you explode. In which case I had better busy myself shortly by making twenty kilogrammes of the stuff and allowing it to obtain leftover status.

I am listening to Belle and Sebastian. Aren't I hip? They fit into the kind of image of myself that I would love to construct someday. Hippy-esque, folk-tastic, natural fibre wearing, vegetable growing, soy-errific at-peace-with-the-world type person. But instead I wear makeup tested (probably) on little piglets and I eat frozen pizzas and have managed to kill every plant I have ever owned, or that my landlord has ever owned. There is one exception - my friend L gave me what he declares to be an unkillable plant, which is by the front door, and which I am watching cagily for signs of mortality. Anyway, the songs, they are nice, even if they are about being raped or corpses falling on you while in battle. I hate when corpses fall on you! And you're all like, eugh! Get off me corpse!!

This laptop is covered in crumbs and I have got some dishes to attend to. And some personal hygiene to attend to. And some reading of Lionel Shriver to attend to. So there!

neuro-praxis -- She Walks Like A Peasant