Saturday, 16 August 2008

A Less than Interesting Blogpost

First, a powerful post from Drakyn, with no comment. It doesn't need it.

On a humorous note, if you find near-death experiences humorous, I don't like housework. In fact, we both hate it. Our house is basically what you might expect from a house owned by two guys.

But...

At least I don't booby-trap our stuff!

I don't think that the washing basket is the best possible place for £20 notes, or for important documents folded fifty times over; nor is under the sofa cushions the best place for fragile objects; nor the middle of doorways the best place for shoes (each shoe in a different doorway is a masterstroke); nor the smallest object possible the very best base for a tall pile of stuff.

Four-sided dice scatter the floor like particularly ironic caltrops. When I was about 15 and he used to come and visit, he'd always leave a few of them in front of the floor next to the ladder that came down from my bed.

I've been bloodied on a number of occasions by falling knives, I kid you not, from elaborate cutlery traps in the kitchen. They're built so that the knives fall point first, with some force.

Sometimes stuff just falls on my head, but I reckon he thinks that's unimaginative.

In conclusion, I think he's trying to tell me something. I'll be certain the day I find an empty bottle labelled Irritating Partner Poison next to my tea, or a big round black thing labelled BOMB with a fizzing string.

LOOK LOOK, he's constructing a new pile, as I watch right now. It's got my Ipod on the bottom, my phone in the middle, and a selection of books going up from small to very large. There's going to be something very heavy on top, at just above my head height...

On a happier note, it's so nice being in York. We went to the park today, and there were children playing - children who might not yet have torched their first car or shot up their first heroin. They had parents, doing parenting.

There was a playground, intact, and a lake with no suspicious human-shaped bags floating to the surface, or even any human turds. We went to the cafe and had coffee, in proper mugs, not poncey Southern cups.

Yes, OK, OK, my life isn't so thrilling right now. We'll go to Pride in the Park tomorrow, which will probably also be less than interesting.

3 comments:

Gareth said...

I'm not trying to kill you I swear... I'm just dyspraxic... anyway... on top of that pile, the object isn't heavy... it's a polystyrene head...

what?!?

Daphne said...

Ah - - I thought it was ME he was trying to kill - - and it turns out he's just dyspraxic. But life would be much less fun without Gareth's booby-traps.

aoc gold said...

The Star
(1)

Twinkle, twinkle, little star!

How I wonder what you are,

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.

(2)

When the blazing sun is gone,

When he nothing shines upon,

Then you show your little light,

Twinkle, twinkle all the night.
(3)

The dark blue sky you keep

And often thro' my curtains peep,

For you never shut your eye

Till the sun is in the sky.

(4)

'Tis your bright and tiny spark

Lights the traveler in the dark;

Though I know not what you are
Twinkle, twinkle, little star!

-----by aoc power leveling