Monday, 29 September 2008

It is all pointless

Grit is feeling lethargic, vacant and stupified, and this is probably affecting her blogging ability, like everything is pointless, so really, the only good thing to do with Grit is take her out into the yard and give her a kicking.

For a start, Grit has a woolly vacant brain and is all, I have so many things to do I cannot remember them and need to stare out of the office window at the squirrel kicking the hazelnut tree which should be coppiced and add that to the list to ring up Glastonbury the gardener and get him to cut the hedge and then I will pay the milk and change Shark's bedsheets and make a windmill.

You see? In Grit's head it is all disconnected and wandering about in there. You could catapult a horse on fire at her head and all she would wonder about is whether or not it is green wheelie bin day.

And if that is not enough she is dropping cups and dinner plates and forgetting words and mispronouncing them like I will put on the fishwasher and the thingstuff doesn't work.

But do not say that her malady and lethargy and general disorientation is hormones. I am sure it is not. If anyone says it is hormones I will cry and stab the computer. Because it is looking at me. And not blinking. It is asking for it. Perhaps it is the colour green. Green is a very affecting colour, is it not? It makes me want to eat constantly for 24 hours, preferably chocolatecrispscakeandbeer and then feel sick and cry while clasping a tear-stained picture of a baby kitten dressed in a pink cardigan.

Well obviously Grit's lethargy and mood swings cannot be her hormones. Perhaps it is because she is typesetting this extraordinarily boring text which reads something like this:

understandably statements of dialectology, phonological, morphological and lexical suggest the seminal meaning is maintained under a definition of sociolinguistic variation as with the inception of pioneering work notwithstanding that discredited and ultimately leading to coded conjunctions of theory suggesting that sociologically speaking i am going to die with boredom understandably is crucial in establishing maintaining and structuring relations between interlocutors of whom even though arguably we should permit the exchange of ethnomethodological phonological, morphological lexical indices suggesting the seminal meaning is maintained under a definition of sociolinguistic variation

There. Must be that.

Well I need to post an educational thing about stuff somewhere, so I will post this. It is a roll of cablestuff which has appeared on the swingthing and apparently it is Dig and the Gritlets. While I have been working they have been setting up some sort of morse code station at the bottom of the garden.

They probably have something important and useful to communicate, like Why is mummy stabbing photographs of kittens?


sharon said...

It's that bloody awful text you are typesetting. No doubt about it at all! Your brain is dying of boredom. Send an SOS message to the Gritlets immediately! Find a field and eat chocolate, you need the antioxidants (I think that's the virtuous part of the chocolate, the rest of it just makes you feel better).

Kitty said...

Crikey, that text would be good for scrabble-scoring, but not much else. It'd make me want to stab kittens too.

I get days like that - woolly-headed and miserable and full of malaise. Have a hot bath and eat a bar of chocolate. Then untie the kids and start again?


Suburbia said...

It is totally normal to feel like this......isn't it?!! ;)

Irene said...

It should be forbidden to typeset texts like that. It ought to all be computerized. Or am I remembering your text wrong? Maybe I am getting woolly minded too. We both need a chocolate bar and a glass of red wine. It will be good for us.