Rambling Rot

April 11th 2001 -

Haha! Allow me to regale you with the tale of how I got two quotes for the car repair ($3000 for a dented bumper?!) and thus arrived at work very late indeed only to find out that the NRMA could have handled everything with no cost to us ’cause the crash wasn’t our fault and therefore it was all a bit of a waste of time.

But then I woke up! Actually, no I didn’t, I’m still asleep. Wait a minute… if this is a dream, when did I start getting so literal? Is my subconscious on holiday? Usually I get dreams about flying and failing exams ’cause it took so long to tie my shoelaces and I’m running really slowly away from the monsters towards the cliff but I can’t stop. Y’know, obvious stuff.
This one is obscure. There’s Carlos, my evil next-desk worker sitting next to me, grinning maniacally. Does he represent my dark side? What about the puns? And does that mean that Pierre, to my left, represents the light side? Hey! He’s getting up and going home! That can’t be a good sign. Wake up! Wake up!

Hey you, out there. Could you do me a favour? I think you represent “the crowd”, so if you just give a big yell all together, it should startle me awake and you can dissolve back into the dream world from whence you came. Wouldn’t that be so much better than what you’re doing now?

It’s the little things that make a difference
I’m just getting more and more respect for the real estate agents managing my ex-flat. They just did the final inspection, and extracted from me a promise to return the toilet brush that I stole, and also to clean the shower cubicle a little better this time. But it was otherwise fine. No worries! I’ll just do it after roleplaying tonight, eh? They’re going to drop the keys off in the letterbox and I can return the brush and clean the shower cubicle (hm… brush… clean shower… I think I’ve worked out a time saver here…) and then I’ll drop the key back in the letterbox and the new people will move in tomorrow. Um. Maybe I should return the key to the real estate agent. Anyone could take the key and walk right into the flat and steal the toilet brush. And that would be fatal to my rental bond.

Rental bond, James Rental Bond. It would be fatal to you, Mr. Rental Bond. Fading to black, Mr. Renton Boy. You have the beasht in your shites. Choose life. Choose sleep. How come I’m so sleepy in my dream? Don’t I have enough dream caffeine and dream sugar in my system?

Ah yes… my last waking moments, getting the new Spit album onto the computer from the minidisc, which I judged to be fairly important ’cause Evan’s erased some of the tracks from his HD multitrack recorder. Anyway, they’re just about ready for some CDs to be cut. Soon, soooon…

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