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Back home.
Today I have mostly been playing furniture tetris. This ended in stalemate. Defeated door (although it scored a flesh wound). Trounced desk. Was foiled by bookcase. Desk number 2 was unfortunate civilian casualty. Awaiting results of UN enquiry. Or possibly intervention by screwdriver.
Today in one act of clever I managed to lock myself out of my own phone while playing with the pin settings. Had to get nice man from Carphone Warehouse shop to salvage it. Rewarded him by buying memory card for phone. (I've been meaning to do this ever since I found out my old one won't fit this phone, but still, it meant someone nice and helpful gets the sales commission. And besides, they were half price.) Also managed to leave the power lead for my laptop in Leicester. Now it will die a tragic, hungry death. This is why I should not be allowed nice things, especially those of a technological nature.
Celebrated saving phone by running halfway across shopping centre in order to make completely unnecessary trips up and down in glass elevators. Confused and scared a few other shoppers. They confused me. How can anyone confronted by a glass elevator not want to ride up and down in it going 'wheeeeee!'? (This is maybe why I should not be allowed, period.)
Managed to avoid spending too much time one-on-one with small child. When I did, spent most of the time encouraging him (must not write 'it' - June will kill me!) not to bash his head against things and waving a ham sandwich under his nose. I believe this is known as 'childcare'. Found threats to feed him to crocodiles if he misbehaved did not quieten him down. (May need to teach him what a crocodile is first for this to be fully effective.) However singing at him did stun him into silence. This just goes to show (as those who have experienced it will probably agree) that my singing is worse that being eaten by crocodiles. Must remember this next time design team meeting is running over.
To be fair, June's son is a particularly fine example of small-childness, very cute and smiley and well behaved (or at least just badly behaved enough...) I just think I may be a teeny bit completely lacking in maternal instinct. I'm not as rabidly anti-kid as some of my friends. I just don't always quite see the point in them. When confronted by one I feel like saying 'That's nice. What else does it do?' Am not sure if this is a major personality failing, or a major source of relief for the entire human race. After all, given my childcare techniques to date, any child of mine would probably grow up to claim the alter ego 'Crocodileman' and declare war on music.
Tired now...
Today I have mostly been playing furniture tetris. This ended in stalemate. Defeated door (although it scored a flesh wound). Trounced desk. Was foiled by bookcase. Desk number 2 was unfortunate civilian casualty. Awaiting results of UN enquiry. Or possibly intervention by screwdriver.
Today in one act of clever I managed to lock myself out of my own phone while playing with the pin settings. Had to get nice man from Carphone Warehouse shop to salvage it. Rewarded him by buying memory card for phone. (I've been meaning to do this ever since I found out my old one won't fit this phone, but still, it meant someone nice and helpful gets the sales commission. And besides, they were half price.) Also managed to leave the power lead for my laptop in Leicester. Now it will die a tragic, hungry death. This is why I should not be allowed nice things, especially those of a technological nature.
Celebrated saving phone by running halfway across shopping centre in order to make completely unnecessary trips up and down in glass elevators. Confused and scared a few other shoppers. They confused me. How can anyone confronted by a glass elevator not want to ride up and down in it going 'wheeeeee!'? (This is maybe why I should not be allowed, period.)
Managed to avoid spending too much time one-on-one with small child. When I did, spent most of the time encouraging him (must not write 'it' - June will kill me!) not to bash his head against things and waving a ham sandwich under his nose. I believe this is known as 'childcare'. Found threats to feed him to crocodiles if he misbehaved did not quieten him down. (May need to teach him what a crocodile is first for this to be fully effective.) However singing at him did stun him into silence. This just goes to show (as those who have experienced it will probably agree) that my singing is worse that being eaten by crocodiles. Must remember this next time design team meeting is running over.
To be fair, June's son is a particularly fine example of small-childness, very cute and smiley and well behaved (or at least just badly behaved enough...) I just think I may be a teeny bit completely lacking in maternal instinct. I'm not as rabidly anti-kid as some of my friends. I just don't always quite see the point in them. When confronted by one I feel like saying 'That's nice. What else does it do?' Am not sure if this is a major personality failing, or a major source of relief for the entire human race. After all, given my childcare techniques to date, any child of mine would probably grow up to claim the alter ego 'Crocodileman' and declare war on music.
Tired now...
