COVID-19 Journal: Day 136

And now I'm back and doing this and realising that even though I'd thought ooh I'm starting to do more work again now after putting Museum in a Box in cryosleep last month that actually I'm still stuck in the quite boring lockdown vibe. I have also possibly done a lot less of the Zooming call business than you have -- which admittedly may be a dodged bullet. Perhaps I'm Rip van Winkle or The Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court or -- oh wait, there are no stories like that with a Strong Female Lead. Fuck you, patriarchy. You're fucking everywhere like that horrific smell your washing gets if you, when you're young and foolish, leave your laundry in the washer for too long. It's mostly young scruffy men I smell this about, although blissfully not that often.

I've absorbed most of the jetsam from Museum in a Box into my front room now. I'm happy because I can finally get my Art off the floor and up at eye height because I couldn't' before because my lease says NO NAILS, etc.

Here are some other things I saw today, and documented for you.

The cat does typing

There was definitely not enough space there but he sat down anyway. I quite like when he gets in the way.


This isn't even all of the allotment haul. Got chard as well, which I've already eaten, and some golden raspberries, which I ate pretty much as soon as I'd picked.

My favourite thing on the internet today was Jonathan Swan being mates with Impeached Mumbling Cheeto Fascist in 1:1 interview on HBO. A, I'm surprised the impeached president agreed to an interview like this. B, if right-wingers think the impeached President did a good job, we're truly fucked. CAN YOU IMAGINE IF HE GETS AWAY WITH MONTHS OR YEARS OF LITIGATION IF HE DOESN'T WIN???!? Swan played his ego deftly. Like Pat Cash at Wimbledon in the good times.

Fuck. It's fucking AUGUST.