Jul. 26th, 2004 12:46 pm
volterator: (Smith. Just Smith.)
It occurs to this vertigoranger that tables are a significant piece of furniture for the purposes of conducting business. This house doesn't have a single table in it. That is to say there are no broad, flat surfaces supported by a number of legs around which a person can be either seated or stand.

Why does this matter? Doesn't really. Except to highlight how small and sorta unergonomic this place is. Maybe it does affect a sucker's mental well being. Space of your own, indeed. It also means that if you want to get, say, a parent to read something that needs their perusal you have to do it while they are slouched on the sofa.

Currently i hear banging, it is the result of my brother's girlfriend's ex fitting a door for my mum. I also hear the dulcet tones of children at play, my brother's girlfriends children, taking up my meagre space and playing my sexy silver PS2. Me a misanthrope? Nay, lad.

My nephew is here also. He can bounce, and is an avid crawler. And he shares the name of a Palahniuk anarchist. I like him so far, but that's because he remains a baby. We'll see how long that lasts as he learns the way of his parents.

Our Dave informs us, from far New Zealand, that perhaps he is going to get married. I didn't realise this but Silvia, his girlfriend, is a practicing Catholic. Which i actually sorta respect. That's Columbians for you, i imagine.


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