i was all dressed in black she was all dressed up in black
Tuesday, 19 January 2010 01:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Aargh! Staggered home last night at about 7.30 after the First Day Of Orientation, of which I shall not speak, dreaming gently of a quiet poached egg and bed, only to be met on the ruins of the patio by the Evil Landlord, palm up in a "You Shall Not Pass" sort of way. He'd clearly been lying in wait for me.
"Before you enter the house, I think you should prepare yourself," he said, in friendly but slightly doom-laden tones.
I wibbled slightly. Or possibly slightly more.
"The electrician's slightly ahead of schedule," he said.
I braced myself and peered around him through the fog of exhaustion. The house seemed to have suffered the involuntary descent of what appears to be a post-punk minimalist Goth sensibility. In the aftermath of my 12-hour day, it seemed curiously appropriate.
"Worst of all, I don't think we can get to the tea supplies," he said.
It's all a bit hazy from there onwards. Things went black. All I know is, the furniture is piled into heaps and shrouded in black plastic so the electrician can cut holes for wiring without saturating everything in dust. The 'fridge, the stove, the cupboards and the bookshelves are taped shut: I cannot access food, drink, utensils, the TV or the sink, the latter mostly because they've disconnected the U-bend without telling us. My study is moved into my bedroom, where it's causing me to have interesting nightmares about glowing red eyes because of all the computer lights. The cats are distraught, with brief breaks to enjoy the piles of felt all over the floor. As the crowning insult, the electricity is off today and tomorrow so there won't be any hot water.
My address for the next two days will be, when not imitating the action of the orientation tornado, chez
smoczek and
maxbarners, who promise to feed me and wash me and stroke my head gently. That is all.
"Before you enter the house, I think you should prepare yourself," he said, in friendly but slightly doom-laden tones.
I wibbled slightly. Or possibly slightly more.
"The electrician's slightly ahead of schedule," he said.
I braced myself and peered around him through the fog of exhaustion. The house seemed to have suffered the involuntary descent of what appears to be a post-punk minimalist Goth sensibility. In the aftermath of my 12-hour day, it seemed curiously appropriate.
"Worst of all, I don't think we can get to the tea supplies," he said.
It's all a bit hazy from there onwards. Things went black. All I know is, the furniture is piled into heaps and shrouded in black plastic so the electrician can cut holes for wiring without saturating everything in dust. The 'fridge, the stove, the cupboards and the bookshelves are taped shut: I cannot access food, drink, utensils, the TV or the sink, the latter mostly because they've disconnected the U-bend without telling us. My study is moved into my bedroom, where it's causing me to have interesting nightmares about glowing red eyes because of all the computer lights. The cats are distraught, with brief breaks to enjoy the piles of felt all over the floor. As the crowning insult, the electricity is off today and tomorrow so there won't be any hot water.
My address for the next two days will be, when not imitating the action of the orientation tornado, chez
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
no subject
Date: Tuesday, 19 January 2010 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, 19 January 2010 12:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, 19 January 2010 02:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, 19 January 2010 03:13 pm (UTC)*snigger*
Date: Wednesday, 20 January 2010 12:35 pm (UTC)Now I need to bleach my brain :P.
Re: *snigger*
Date: Thursday, 21 January 2010 01:29 pm (UTC)Nuts
Date: Tuesday, 19 January 2010 02:24 pm (UTC)Re: Nuts
Date: Wednesday, 20 January 2010 06:55 am (UTC)