Third Night
While writing the title to this post, the Shakespeare play with a very similar name popped into my head, and I had delusions of grandier for – oh – about a millisecond. Being absolutely truthful, it took me a few moments to even think of the name of the play (it's called “Twelfth Night”, if you are similarly challenged in the memory department).
My memory has been shocking recently. I'm not sure if it's just because I'm getting old, because I'm spinning too many metaphorical plates, or because I've just been a bit more rubbish that usual. I find myself relying on Google for more and more. I have half a clue that I read something about something somewhere, but can never remember exactly what it was. If not for Google, I would probably be digging up potatoes for a living – which often seems massively preferrable to software development, but that's another story for another day.
I'm sitting alone in the hotel room once again. I briefly considered going out for dinner tonight to the pub across the way, but decided that buying a salad from the supermarket is massively preferrable to sitting on my own in the corner of a busy pub on a summer evening, trying to ignore all the families and friends having fun. If I try and talk to anybody, the men will only talk about football (which I know less about than orthapaedics), and if I talk to a girl she'll probably suppose I'm hitting on her. Maybe I should stand outside with one of those “Free Hugs” banners, and see what happens.
This is all rather random, isn't it. Random is what happens when I have nothing to report. From the moment I left the hotel room this morning, until the moment I returned this evening, I have been head down on a software development project (well... either that, or being pulled in three directions at once by staff that have figured out what I do).
The day was broken up by a walk to the supermarket to buy lunch – the same supermarket I have been buying food from all week for lunches, and dinners. This evening I returned again, and came away with a mixture of healthy food, and inexplicably horrific food. I would like to say I do it on purpose to remain as contrary as possible, but in reality I just like junk food. Oatmeal and raisin cookies are my absolute downfall. I try to tell myself they are healthy – loaded with oats, and raisins – lets ignore that they are bound together with treacle and fat.
So – what to do with the rest of my evening ?
I'm going to make my third attempt at watching Mr Robot. Halfway through watching it last night a wonderful person from the internet arrived in my phone and diverted me expertly. It's probably worth admitting that it doesn't take much to divert me at the best of times. I need to watch Episode 4 of Season 2 again – or rather, the second half of episode 4, for the third time.
I also need to try and get up earlier tomorrow. This morning I did the very clever trick of watching the minutes tick by until I really couldn't stay in bed any longer. I was then almost made late for work because my room is near the lifts, and I get to listen to people's conversations as they leave breakfast and head back to their rooms. You know when you can hear somebody elses conversation, but they don't know you're even there – and opening your door will mean they know you heard it all? Yeah – that. Who knew the certain brands of underwear are SO itchy ?