Everything’s Broken

16 Nov

…No, *not* Politically. 

Although… 

(…Yeah. Very much that too.) 

…I am actually referring to the office. Where I am pacing. During my Lunch 2.0. Because our phones and servers have been down,  all day long, with no idea of when they will be back up again. But because I’m employed by idiots,  I’m still here at the office. 

…”In case. ”

“In case” of what?  I dunno. Because even the few times one or the other has worked today, it crashes thirty seconds later,  and we are back to square one. 

…And this being…you know,  *this* century and all…there is absofuckinglutely nothing for me to do but file papers, without the Internet. And I’ve done that. So now I’m being paid to take a second lunch and type a blog into my phone. 

…Which I guess is me: winning .

…Even if it is winning on a stupid technicality. 

(Which I think a lot of us are kinda “over” with,  this week.)

…Anyway. I’d say, “I digress, ” but I wasn’t really aimed anywhere to begin with…so… 

…yeeeeeeaaaaaahhhh. 

(I got nothin’) 

I am only writing this now because I’ve FB’d as much as can stand for the day, already read the new Guardian stage reviews, updated my Fitbit app, and watched a bunch of blurry episodes of “Remember WENN, ” on YouTube… 

(…then Google’d all those actors to find out what they’re doing now, and why that show hasn’t been released on DVD, so I can buy it.) 

…And now I’ve got a headache. Prob’ly from watching and reading things for hours on this tiny screen. 

…And I’m sad for the family loss, of an extended family member. 

…And I’d rather be outside, walking these thoughts out in a proper walk in you know…”air”…for free, than stuck here, pacing a damn lobby for pay. 

…And then after a while I could pop on my audio Winston Churchill book…

…And let my mind go back to places it wants to be. Back in London. Back before a lot of things got sad and shitty. 

…But Winston Churchill rallied. So, I will too. 

…And at the Dames retreat -and-meet tonight, I’m gonna flip the finger to day-3 of Mrs.Johnson’s visit, while wearing pj bottoms and my London Tube tube socks…and eating: whatever the flying fuck I want to. 

(Mostly of salt) 

(And potatoes.) 

(And prob’ly: bread.) 

So really, this is a blog about absolutely nothing. 

…And you read it anyway. 

…Cuz, we get it: you n’ I. 

Hang tuff, friend. 

Peace, 

~D

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