Wednesday

I've logged on half a dozen times this morning with the intent to write an entry, but I have nothing. 

Christmas looms with dark dire doom and forboding.  They are going to have games at the office Christmas lunch.  My suggestion of a dunce hat to be awarded and worn at end of each round was disregarded.

I have done nothing about my transport issues, but my brotherinlaw is going to pop over sometime with a battery charger to see if that is the issue. 

Work is still, stultifying and stupifying.  The radio on my desk fuzzy and slightly off station, playing easylistening hits.

The book I am reading is great and sits on my desk in edge of sight calling 'read me read me', but I am at work and that would be a very bad idea. 

Temperature at my desk is 26.2.  My shirt is an aubergine colour.  I am wearing old tatty discoloured underwear of which the elastic is losing it's dominance and my right shoe feels like it is broken inside.  As do I.  Boredom is not good for me.

I remembered to put the rubbish out, but forgot to turn off the sprinkler last night and this morning my backyard is a quagmire.  The dengue mosquitoes will be happy.