knock on wood

[freckles_and_doubt]

Bloody Cape Argus had billboards posted all over Thursday, reading "THREAT OF ALIEN ATTACK (REALLY)", but their website declines to offer any story remotely readable in terms of the headline. They're just taunting the sf geeks, is all. Bastards.

However, by way of compensation we are kitchenated, or kitchenified, or possibly kitchified. Onlookers may wish to shield their eyes against the classy glow of all that oak, viz.:



Just outside the picture to the left is our brand spanky new oven, with door that actually shuts without the necessity of a chair to keep it closed; just out of sight to the right is the brand spanky new dishwasher, whose sole and heaven-ordained purpose in life is to prevent my hands from falling off¹.

Even better, this morning I presented unto my Evil Landlord a small, green, glossy flier for a local company which comes and takes away your junk. In a rare display of organisation, or possibly a finely-judged awareness of quite how psychotic I become in the presence of unnecessary clutter, he actually phoned them while I was out keeping up my end of the consumerist contract by buying shoes and CDs² this morning. Said removals company arrived at around lunchtime in a pleasing green van which efficiently removed from the back courtyard the choice selection of bits of wood, plastic, shelving, cupboard innards, sawdust, nails, planks, screws, and possibly rat infestations and small pocket universes, which has been occupying half of it in a giant, inaesthetic pile for over a week. I am extremely happy. Also extremely pleased to realise that this company is effectively a Capetonian and slightly more odorous version of Pratchett's Harry King - they get paid twice, once by us to take it away, and once again by the recycle places to which they sell 80% of it. They donate a bunch to worthy causes, too, or at least claim to. Apparently everyone wins.

Another two weeks of reg and post-reg chaos to go, and then I actually get my life back. I did manage to spend the morning with my sister and Da Niece, which was fun and surprisingly relaxing despite the ongoing need for toddler-wrangling and random outbreaks of playing "Hickory Dickory Dock" on the piano. The rest of this weekend gets dedicated to Finishing This Bloody Paper. starmadeshadow just finished her doctorate, I'm buggered if a mere 5000 words is going to outface me.

Last Night I Dreamed: I had superhero powers, including flying over a craggy coastline and occasionally diving into the sea to swim around while cheerfully breathing water. Said powers issued from a small, nondescript bottle of some kind of liquid which was almost finished. Hmmm.

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¹ As stv keeps pointing out, it could be worse, it could be eczeema. Non-Doctor-Who fangirls and boys may move along now, nothing to see here.

² The new Radiohead, Violent Femmes, Velvet Underground, and a random copy of The Mission's God's Own Medicine which happened to be lying around for an extremely low price and which has been giving me 80s goth flashbacks all afternoon, mostly in a good way. You could say the Bowie phase is waning, except that my Bowie playlist the only thing that's kept me sane during the last week.

Comments

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Actually, the Mission stuff was quite fun to listen to again, and holds up reasonably well even in the absence of post-adolescent angst. You're right, I still need more Decemberists. I did look for Arcade Fire yesterday, but they only had EPs.