I have this recurring image in my head of someone waving their arms around, screaming: "I am a tree! I am a tree!" Can anyone tell me why? Buggered if I know.

The good thing about working is that I'll have lots of money to pay for things like, say, the weekend excursion and a bridesmaid's dress and comics and coffee and other good things that start with 'co'.

The bad thing about working is that it means very little interesting happens during a day to blog about. Or even interesting thoughts, since after the first half-hour of vacuuming my brain goes on strike and shuts down for the duration.

The other bad thing is that people look at me funny. Might have something to do with the fact I'm gaily singing "I fuck dogs" as I vacuum. (Well, I tried singing "Anarchy in the UK" but that led to too much bouncing around as I worked.)

I slept for four hours yesterday afternoon, and had a very strange dream. The printer menu and the McDonalds menu were the same thing, and while I was desperately trying to print out my essay which was due ten minutes ago, all I kept getting was a Big Mac. I'm sure this has deep, dark significance.