I have better things to do

Work, work, work, tippy tappy, tippy tappy, all day long, even though Grit would much prefer to go for a walk somewhere nice and lose some fatty bits. No such luck. She has to sit at her desk and read stuff like this:

the editors are fairly vague about whether scholars of language-in-education and language planning and policy have succumbed to neocolonialist trafficking in the exotic, and to what pitfalls, they are forthright in their call to ‘link old colonisation processes with new globalisation processes’ in order to conceptualize the present era as one offering ‘new opportunities of collusion and interpenetration, hybridisation and postcolonial reinvention…that go beyond the essentialist, nationalist identity and ‘two cultures’ politics…that defined the earlier phases of decolonisation, nationalism and national culturalism in the process of nation-building in many postcolonial societies’ (p.2)

This makes Grit think that academics should learn how to write clearly and be sent on proper courses like she was. Reading stuff like academic text also makes Grit think this looks better fun:


This is Shark who today has built an electromagnet with daddy Dig. Or perhaps I might get a few bright moments with this:


Perhaps I should do the laundry before I don't iron it:


There again, I could always clear up Tiger's room:


Or perhaps pick up those old copies of the Independent:


Or there might be something in the garden to tidy up:


Sadly, all the above fun options haven't been done. But I have just finished setting a very dulling text and can therefore open a beer.