From my diary
Green, crumbly dog turds in the entrance to no. 42. Noticed during this morning’s walk and stuck in my mind for some reason.
Puddles from last night’s rain. (Wrote “puggles” originally, which seems like something out of Harry Potter. Never read beyond H.P. no. 2 beyond approx. page 44. Was forced to see one of the movies by my girlfriend at the time, who thought she was doing me a favor. But I digress.)
The twitch in my right eyelid persists. Gets worse when I imbibe caffeine (coffee or black tea).
Who wants to know all these details?
A while ago I read in a diary from about 10 years ago, a part that was all about my love trials and tribulations at the time. Feelings gone stale which now seem all but incomprehensible but which were apparently enormously important to me at the time.
There’s work waiting. Several mails from the bane queen of sticklerism waiting to be answered. Better get to it.
Depressed and fuzzy yesterday because of not getting things done in our gorgeous new job management system which is cumbersome, slow, error-prone and annoying. Its inflexibility makes it hard to get even small jobs done efficiently. Obviously programmed by some sharp data minds myopically focused on the idea that everything can be automated.
Better get back to work. To that annoying p.o.s., which is best at crashing and kicking you out when you’re in the middle of a complex step that took forty minutes to set up.
Don’t you just love (the working) life in all its variety.
– James Steerforth (© 2013)
Not really written for 3WW, but does contain the words depressed, fuzzy and sharp called for this time around.