Balls

Today was my usual Monday W-f-H routine. 

I guess it went alright, although I had to spend a lot of time on something where I knew I was right and the other person was wrong, but needed proof. I got it of course, so I suppose that is positive. Can a total waste of time be positive?

I get no satisfaction from proving myself right. 

This is particularly so when the phone call bringing my proof arrives while I am cooking dinner, as a consequence of which the grilled chicken was charred rather than grilled.

Much more positive was a short discussion on the phone with the Goth (who was in the Office), in the middle of which she squealed “I miss you”. No, not like that…

Ah yes, the Blip. The contents are what I am currently using to make my porridge in the morning. For some reason I looked at the label today before the empty bag went for recycling. It transpires that the oatmeal is no longer produced anywhere near Aberfeldy. It has only travelled 4 miles to reach me from the other side of town. 

Much more interesting is that my mortadella* and Emmental sandwich last week reminded me of this.  

buffalo


* I do know the difference between mozzarella and mortadella, before anyone jumps into the comments section.