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I’m in a scattery (is that a word?) sort of mood.  At work, I was dropping in and out of conversations, going to the Daily Tele before I had even read the article from the SMH that had loaded in my browser window, and I even exceeded my daily coffee quota of one small skim cappucino by drinking a second one in the afternoon.  A collegue was talking about a rock photography course, to which I replied "rocks?  A course just in taking photos of rocks?".  I was then mocked- and that was only fair.  Of course the course was about taking photos of the guitar-strumming drug-fuelled groupie-attracting type of rock rather than your igneous and metamorphic variety.

I have excess energy, but I am tired.  I have only been sleeping lightly lately, even after two mildly boozy evenings on the weekend I couldn’t get in to a deep sleep and normally a couple of cocktails would mean I was in for a night of deep slumber (unfortunately in some ways… there weren’t any handsome young unpretentious gentlemen around that I was even the slightest bit interested in having potentially unrestful slumber with anyway).

Yesterday I went to the beach, and tried to read a bit and chill out, but I was distracted by the crashing of the waves and the glorious sunshine and the people around me.  I bought a pen and paper to write some stuff, but I was too distracted watching things to write about them.

The second coffee meant that today I came home and retidied the kitchen that I cleaned yesterday, then cleaned up the laundry a little, scrubbed the toilet and the bathroom vanity, then cooked dinner (washed my hands thoughrally with detergent in between these tasks, I’m not that scattered)… came upstairs, blasted some Belle and Sebastian, then got bored… watched Neighbours, where I was highly amused by a painting by six-month-old cancer-baby-but-now-shes-better-but-now-her-mummy-is-in-jail-for-a-crime-she-didn’t-commit Kerry.  It was supposed to be a painting Kerry did, with her hand prints.  Awww.  Funny how the hand prints looked to be about the size of 12-year-old’s hand rather than a baby.  Maybe Harold really is losing it.

Speaking of Neighbours, I miss the snarky recaps that used to get posted at the Spin Starts Here blog before it closed shop.

I then did a load of laundry while chopping up pumpkin for no particular purpose whatsoever.  It would have had to be chopped sometime before I could cook it and eat it, so no time like the present I guess. I also watched Media Watch

In all the scattery busyness I forgot to do the one thing I really need to put some energy in to… studying much dreaded Teeline Shorthand.  I’m quite hopeless at it, largely because I have put little effort in to learning it at all.  But right now I can’t be bothered.

I think all this strangeness calls for me to find a second job.  Especially since I spent a bit of time researching the Trans-Siberian Railway on the weekend, and I ain’t going to get there on my current salary alone.

Even this blog post is all over the place.

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