Already I've cut loose and been to the Markets and the Mall.
For some reason my brain has formed a chorus like something out of a bad opera and sings along with anything I'm doing, like:
I get the papers from the lawn, the voices in my head sing she's getting the papers from the lawn, but she can't find themmmmm.... where could that pa-a-per be? Oh! There it is!
and
making breakfast, they sing stuff like a little bit of this, a little bit of that, ooh, it's such a lovely day, she might have some smoked chicken on her bagel... [do you think she ought to?] yes I think she ought to... and mayyybbbeeee some freshhhh tooommmaaaattooooo....
Hmm. Maybe time to put some music on.
A development in the Mary Gilmore saga is that last night my aptly named cat Pooter left a little present on some of the manuscript pages. He seems to have pulled a muscle above his tail and grooming is a bit painful, so I think he couldn't clean himself up after doing number twos, and then sat on my desk as usual (missing me because I was playing hookey at the movies). GAH! Cat poo on two pages. Luckily I could print them out again, but I can't really replicate my client's doctor-like handwriting, so I'll have to think of some nice explanation as to why I've rewritten his corrections for the page in my writing. Something nicer than 'my cat shat on it', anyway.
Meanwhile, over at For Battle, Coz has discovered the most fantastic site which sells marvellous toys like vengeful unicorns that can spike business men and mimes. Finally I've found a place to buy christmas presents for some of my inlaw family!
And they have such a thing as Pirate Devil Duckies, which cover a lot of ground:
OK, I've got to stop procrastinating and actually use this peaceful time productively. Ready... set, go! ready set go... she said ready, set go!
Man, I've got to shut those voices up. They're worse than hits&memories earworms.
3 comments:
when I was in Year 10, we went to the Adelaide Festival for an excursion. we saw an 'interesting' opera called Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, by Shostakovich. I'm sure I'd probably appreciate it more now, but I was more of a 'classical' opera fan back then, and I thought it a bit dreadful and modern. or maybe it was this particular production.
anyhoo.
one of the scenes was when some bloke was dying. how was he dying? he was poisoned. how was he poisoned? it was the mushrooms. his wife poisoned the mushrooms.
the mushrooms?
the mushrooms!
it was... the mushrooms!
the mushrooms???
(the mushrooms!!!)
sigh. poor mushrooms. I can't cook them or slive them into a salad without opera in my head these past 20-odd years. so I suggest that you have no hope as well, and be resigned to your fate.
your fate?
your fate!!!
(her fate...)
I knew you'd understand, Speedy.
dude ;-)
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