It is Thursday afternoon, and the internet's down. Theoretically, this ought to improve my production, except I now have no remote access to the client's servers, hence am incapable of performing the more pressing tasks on my checklist. Normal climate has resumed: the trees outside my window have evolved over the course of the day from dry, to wet, to dry, to throwing their branches about.

VNC info: failed to connect to server.

My throat and ears ache. I'm unclear whether it's a pending cold, or head-muscle strain from giving Susie a beating on Tuesday. My eyes feel like they're bulging out of their sockets: it could be either of the latter, or simply from using them to read 1280x1024 (times two) in my warm, dry office.

I believe right now I may benefit from turning my back on mass media. I'm exhausted from hearing about the state of the planet, and hobbled justice, and angry self-righteous people. I have yet to work out how to shrug off the heaviness. Concentrating on my work, in favour of the good-bad-&-ugly of local political blogs, will probably aid me no end. I may need to take some forceful measures to swear off.

Oh, my internet connection has returned. Two days, two posts, about 550 words, and still nix to say. My current plan is to keep writing rubbish until I can remember how to enjoy writing.