There was a big, grinning rip in J's trousers. It surely wasn't there five minutes earlier. Instead of shopping, I decided to be a handy mother and took a needle in my hand, where no needle ever has felt reliable security. I didn't stick it in my eyes, but I sew the trousers into my own trousers. It will be the latest fashion of the Spring: the twintrousers. Just like in the movie the other trousers are major and the other trousers are minor, except that the lengthier trousers don't speak in Austrian accent. Nor are they governor of any state.
Anyway, I quit the needlework and took my brush, but it felt like it wanted to fly across the air. I picked it up and banged my head. My desk has already been in use in the beginning of the 20th century in the railway office. It's big, not padded. I dropped the brush again, but it wanted a CD as a company. I picked them up and put the CD back on the self. Unfortunately it wanted to attack a suicide and jumped down. It turned to be a nasty mass suicide for all the covers. Well, I don't fancy covers anyway.
So, I took the handheld vacuum cleaner and the plain funeral was over in seconds, or it would have been unless I wouldn't accidentally have vacuumed one plant too. The machine obviously didn't enjoy it's plastic 'n plants. I think it's a bit dead.
The cat stared at me suspiciously and greedy. We went to the kitchen and I opened the fridge.
The mayonnaise wanted to be on the floor. So did the fragments of glass. The cat ran through the mess. The fridge wanted to sing a fanfare to make sure I would not forget that the door was still open. There was a mystical green E4 mark flashing in the LCD panel. I took the cat-food out and poured it into the bowl, which was full of grapes.
The cat stares at me. I stare at the computer. Is it possible that objects somehow have hostile thoughts towards you?
About selfies - I just discovered that the French for *selfie* is *égoportrait*, which is entirely perfect and beautiful. *PS: I’ve been advised that égoportrait is spec...
3 days ago