Living on the Edge

I have been having a bad week. However, one of the curious things about this bad week is that I don't know that it is bad, until someone asks me, "How are you?" in an e-mail or in the Place of Learning. At this moment I discover that I am not okay and in fact, might cry. This is unexpected. So if it happens in a Real Person encounter I quickly change the subject or think of something funny to say. Immediately the moment is past, I feel fine again. All this strangeness has caused in me a general feeling of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde-ishness. I might be insane. I can't tell. I might go completely round the bend if someone asks the wrong question. It is very unsettling. So. In case I become a Loony, these are the possible reasons.
1. The kitchen. I think I am allergic to it now. Since February 8thish I have loathed it. Since Monday symptoms have developed. It gives me the shakes.
2. My house-mates. Generally nice people, but frequently inconsiderate. The niceness makes this hard to address.
3. My brain. This seems to have stopped functioning. This brings me to
4. The Thesis. No work is getting done on it. None. None at all. Which is causing
5. Anxiety. Lots and lots of anxiety.

I am taking the traditional medication for this ailment; sugar. Chocolate, cakes, sweet etc. I feel, and I am sure medical authorities everywhere would agree, that a sufficient intake of full-cream custard will make any tendencies to dangerous insanity much too sluggish to manifest.

Tea and Goonies

It is late and I am still at my desk doing work in the Art History building. I ventured out of my bright work room to make myself some tea downstairs despite my natural fear of the Goonies. It is a lovely old house during the day, but rather frightening at night when no one else is here. The wide white-paneled corridors are dark, and all the doors close loudly sometime after I have passed through them and echo emptily.
You can imagine my surprise when I returned to the Office to find someone sitting at my desk. This was quickly followed by alarm as I found that I did not recognize him, and he therefore was not likely to have a key to this, by now long securely locked building. He also appeared somewhat agitated.
"I beg your pardon," said he, " I did not realize anyone was still in."
Not wishing to appear rude I asked him if I could help him with something. He continued. "I suppose this is your desk then, is it?" I admitted that this was the case.
"And this is your laptop?" I replied that it was.
"Then I am afraid that you cannot help me with anything at all for my purpose in coming was to acquire laptops." I began to reassess my previous assumption that he was not a Goonie.
"Surely you will not be so disobliging sir, as to steal my laptop. After all, I am clearly still using it."
"Yes" he mused, tapping absently at the keys, "that does appear to be the case." He began a game of Spider Solitaire.
This, I felt, was beyond words! To suggest to me that he was about to steal my laptop and then take license with it and begin to play cards seemed to me to display a serious want of feeling. I expressed my dissatisfaction with the current situation to him. "And" I finished," it is not as though you got it fairly, for I caught you in the act, and to take it now would be very unsportsmanlike. Black Jack on the Queen." This seemed to strike a chord with him. He exited the Solitaire game. He stood up. He was tall.
"Very well," he said. "I shall try again some other night. Is Latin at half nine, or eleven tomorrow?"
"Eleven."
"I bid you good evening then. See you tomorrow." And he left.
I dusted my chair off and sat down. And began a game of Spider Solitaire.

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