Saturday, 2.27pm

I have been in my office for about two hours already, and I don't think I've achieved anything. I spent about half an hour playing with my camera, taking pictures of the view out the window (grey and uninteresting) and of my screen saver (the Matrix code) and playing with all the buttons on the camera that change the depth of field and exposure (is it still exposure when theres no film to be exposed?) so try and figure out what each one does, but I just succeeded in wasting time and neither learning anything about my camera nor getting an interesting picture.
I ate some gnocchi that was leftover from last night's dinner. Quite nice, but really could have used a healthy dose of blue cheese.
I read some blogs.
I rearranged my office.
I emptied the contents of my handbag out onto the desk a) to see if there was anything interesting in there (not really) and b) with the intention of cleaning out the extraneous (and as it turns out not particularly interesting) matter dwelling within. I didn't. I just stuffed it all back in.
I made a cup of tea. And drank it. I think I could go another.
I put moisturiser on my legs. Pretty tricky when one is wearing their Saturday-in-June best of woolly socks, cosy trackpants and polypropylene.

I feel like I should be working though, because the rest of my family is at home (home being my sister's house) digging stuff up and building retaining walls and generally being all landscape-gardenery. And I said I couldn't help because I have so much work to do.
And I really do have the most ridiculous amount of work to do. I know for sure I won't get any done next weekend, because I'll be here.

OK. Time to do it.
As the man said: Do it.

writing stuff, writing stuff, look at me, im writing stuff.....

Update: 479 words. The good news is I'm pretty sure they all make sense and can therefore stay. The bad news is that there's only 479 of them. Oh well, its Saturday.

In other news, the White Stripes' "Dead Leaves on the Dirty Ground" is a fucking awesome song.