Wild Forests

2005-10-18 - 7:16 p.m.

My new office is... quiet (apart from the occasional "I can't believe this! This is fucking ridiculous!" from the Partner's office next door). I've been complaining for months about the distractions of people walking past and talking to me when I worked in a cubicle. At the moment, I miss the conversation a little. But I love having my own bookshelf, my own space to put my bag, my own two potplants, and my red mousepad, pen holder, document tray, and memo holder. (I'm having a bit of a red craze at the moment.)

And I can't wait until I'm allocated a computer with speakers so that I can have some sounds. I'm thinking of plugging some headphones into the computer so that I can listen quietly to CDs.

It was strange staying at Brother's house last night, being in a grubby student house again. There were cigarette butts crushed into an ashtray in the lounge room, and I sat and ate on a sofa that they'd found on the footpath and dragged home. "It smells funny sometimes," Brother said reflectively. I leant down, and sniffed the fabric. "No, not if you sniff it. It's just this weird smell that floats into the air occasionally."

He cooked me lasagne, told me all the gossip about people we once went to school with (an unexpected pregnancy, a violent boyfriend - combined, unfortunately), and we talked about our parents.

I went to bed just as all his flatmates got home. I presume he stayed up with them - I slept heavily through the night, and dreamed that I had a hire car stolen from me. My alarm went off in the morning, and I dressed and made breakfast in the silent house. They have a lovely big backyard - Brother has been growing hydroponic lettuce, and has dug a small pond in one corner of the garden. I'm not sure what the owners of the house are going to say when they see it. Brother was speaking optimistically of putting plant clippings in the hole, and pretending it was a compost/rubbish pile. "They won't know there's a hole dug underneath it, then."

Ah, the innocence of youth.

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journal latest archives extras reading recipes links design contact notes email guestbook lately Cheese - 2005-11-07 My inner bitch - 2005-11-06 Storm season - 2005-10-29 I need a holiday - 2005-10-26 Day in the Life - 2005-10-23 diaryland	2005-10-18 - 7:16 p.m. My new office is... quiet (apart from the occasional "I can't believe this! This is fucking ridiculous!" from the Partner's office next door). I've been complaining for months about the distractions of people walking past and talking to me when I worked in a cubicle. At the moment, I miss the conversation a little. But I love having my own bookshelf, my own space to put my bag, my own two potplants, and my red mousepad, pen holder, document tray, and memo holder. (I'm having a bit of a red craze at the moment.) And I can't wait until I'm allocated a computer with speakers so that I can have some sounds. I'm thinking of plugging some headphones into the computer so that I can listen quietly to CDs. It was strange staying at Brother's house last night, being in a grubby student house again. There were cigarette butts crushed into an ashtray in the lounge room, and I sat and ate on a sofa that they'd found on the footpath and dragged home. "It smells funny sometimes," Brother said reflectively. I leant down, and sniffed the fabric. "No, not if you sniff it. It's just this weird smell that floats into the air occasionally." He cooked me lasagne, told me all the gossip about people we once went to school with (an unexpected pregnancy, a violent boyfriend - combined, unfortunately), and we talked about our parents. I went to bed just as all his flatmates got home. I presume he stayed up with them - I slept heavily through the night, and dreamed that I had a hire car stolen from me. My alarm went off in the morning, and I dressed and made breakfast in the silent house. They have a lovely big backyard - Brother has been growing hydroponic lettuce, and has dug a small pond in one corner of the garden. I'm not sure what the owners of the house are going to say when they see it. Brother was speaking optimistically of putting plant clippings in the hole, and pretending it was a compost/rubbish pile. "They won't know there's a hole dug underneath it, then." Ah, the innocence of youth. \| previous - next