Well, there's a week I am more than glad to leave in my wake. Coffins should be longer than 60cm. Much, much longer. Also, inquests may provide closure, but only in a world where perfect closure is possible, which this is not.
Here's to next week being more fun to live through.
To round the week off with something humorous, my cat staged a violent attack on the lucky bamboo plant. At midnight (which is always a most hilarious time, I find). The bamboo lived up to its name and survived; its vase was not so lucky. Which, I must say, makes me wonder: if the lucky bamboo is supposed to provide me and my house with good feng shui propoerties, but its good feng shui field doesn't even extend out so far as its vase, what the hell kind of rip-off scheme is this? I could walk around with lucky bamboo pinned to me, or growing in my hair perhaps (can't get closer than that!), but … you know. Might look a bit weird. Probably violates the dress code of all the fancy places.
I have repotted the lucky bamboo. Clearly, despite being dubious about the alleged luckiness field, I am still fearful of any bad-luck field which might result from giving up on the lucky bamboo. Besides, it's the only plant I've ever managed to not only not kill, but keep kinda green.
I have also armed myself with a spray bottle, to protect the lucky bamboo against future hate play crimes. A friend recommended a solution three parts white wine vinegar to one part water as most effective, since the cat would hate getting wet and would then also hate the taste of cleaning himself. Double punishment to drive home the point. I went with only water, however. You see, much as I like my cat, I'm well aware of the fact that no one will ever accuse him of higher intellect. If it doesn't happen at the same nanosecond, it's not connected. All he will connect the vinegar taste to is cleaning himself, and I don't want to punish him for being clean. Then I'd have a filthy cat who's naughty.
I always maintained if it was painful to be stupid, we'd have a lot less stupidity in the world. Turns out, as my cat has taught me, it is painful — but only for those around the stupid. We should institute a procedure whereby forehead-smacks are mandatory when one is displaying stupidity. It should cut down on a lot of troubles, not to mention pent frustrations.
Also, Doctor Who? Please, please tell me this Family of Blood malarky is more than just a convenient way for the writers to strand the Doctor in early 20th century Britain and have him fall in love with a human. Who isn't Martha — cue whine from Martha. Because I'm quite tired of the Doctor / love story being all this and the last series were about. Less Britain, please, and more action — and please, stop already wtih the lovesick companion. I was looking forward to the introduction of Martha, in the hopes we would see the end of pining. Apparently, no luck there. Rose at least had an entire season to be all chutzpah before she turned into sappy clingy jealous icky girly girl. Martha didn't even get an entire episode before she started on with the clinging and the whinging. Don't get me wrong, romantic subplots are fine. But this is Doctor Who! There's aliens to be vanquished, for crying out loud! Keep it as a subplot, kthxbai.
