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Had a total crash last night, going to bed more or less directly after work, and ended up sleeping the clock round. Felt slightly better this morning. (There are colds going round at work, and I'm among those hitting the Lemsip.)
Coworker was complaining that it was her birthday and she wanted to know who'd first come up with the idea that the person with the birthday should bring in cakes. The rest of us pointed out that it wouldn't be such an issue if she wasn't a keen baker who felt the need to make cakes at any possible opportunity. Though not too loudly, since we want her to keep this useful habit.
And now it's the weekend. Things to do tomorrow: buy some dollars before the pound manages to fall any further. Plus shopping. Plus check that stall in the market which had some Liberty's fabric - I feel the need to make some scarves.
---
Faint music drifted in through the open windows from somewhere above the suite, almost like background accompaniment for Jin Zhi and Qing Song's debate on how they were going to avoid mutual betrayal, who got custody of the Librarian, whose fault it was anyhow, and whose fault it had been fifteen years ago.
The ringing of the telephone cut through the room like a knife. Qing Song and Jin Zhi both turned to look at the device as if it should be executed for improper behaviour.
Coworker was complaining that it was her birthday and she wanted to know who'd first come up with the idea that the person with the birthday should bring in cakes. The rest of us pointed out that it wouldn't be such an issue if she wasn't a keen baker who felt the need to make cakes at any possible opportunity. Though not too loudly, since we want her to keep this useful habit.
And now it's the weekend. Things to do tomorrow: buy some dollars before the pound manages to fall any further. Plus shopping. Plus check that stall in the market which had some Liberty's fabric - I feel the need to make some scarves.
---
Faint music drifted in through the open windows from somewhere above the suite, almost like background accompaniment for Jin Zhi and Qing Song's debate on how they were going to avoid mutual betrayal, who got custody of the Librarian, whose fault it was anyhow, and whose fault it had been fifteen years ago.
The ringing of the telephone cut through the room like a knife. Qing Song and Jin Zhi both turned to look at the device as if it should be executed for improper behaviour.
