This is a budding dedisherficator
I am but a humble dedisherficator, Humble but habitual.
You see when one disherficates, one creates dishes, most people would call this cooking and eating, but I find the convenience of a single word bodes well.
I didn’t completely dedisherficate, because once the marmalade on toast was eaten and the fresh coffee made, there was bugger all reason to stay in the kitchen. So I left the three chips (French fries) on the floor from last night, one of the cats will get hungry enough.
I went and watered the plants, stewing over how to use my new word; and here I am. Posting until the hour in which I redisherficate.
Now, I know that most of you are thinking, “Poor demented soul!”
Poor, I am not, I am rich. Not in monetary terms, there I am poor, but in richness of life, my cup overfloweth.
This is demented, really demented
Demented, I’m not so sure, it would depend on the yardstick you use. I am certainly not normal, so I am somewhere either side of that mark. But, I don’t think I have sunk so far down the well as to be classed as truly demented, slightly eccentric, maybe a tad off the rails.
Soul, I have none. Well not in the selling sense, and I do care about many things, so I would not class myself as a sociopath, they don’t have a soul. You only have to look around at the many sociopaths in our world; they call themselves politicians, presidents, CEOs, w bankers and neighbourhood watch coordinators. No I am definitely not a sociopath.
I have lamented in the last couple of posts about Clorinha’s lack of mousing skills. Here is how I imagined her.
Plying her trade
Sadly, it appears not to be the case; and I was so hopeful.
My Cordon Beucon bacon and cheese stuffed weinerschnitzel yesterday was decadent delicious. I have decided, after much prompting from netizens, that I will become a vegetarian; just as soon as they figure out how to grow bacon on trees. *Puts idea into pigs-might-fly basket*
Do you remember the old office trays on desks? You hand an ‘in’, ‘out’ and ‘pending’ tray.
Older than these
Boy, are you old if you remember these. The ones I had were the in-line ones across the top of the desk, they’re so old that google doesn’t even list them, not even under vintage.
I had an in, out, too hard, and pig-might-fly trays.
George Harrison Memorial Tree
The morning is wearing on, I can’t justify Nap-fu practice, as I woke up from one less than an hour ago to make coffee and marmalade on toast.
I read yesterday that th memorial tree for George Harrison of the Beatles fame has been destroyed by… you guessed it, beetles.
How ironic.
This is my first post of the day, got a way to go.
Later.
