not sure i want to go rollarskating, but you know.

I’ve just suddenly been caught by a strange [insert smartypants theory word here like ‘existential’ or ‘postmodern’ or whatever here] moment:
How does the touch pad on my laptop work? No, I mean really, how does it work? How does it know that I’m touching it?*
Meanwhile, back in the concrete, undertheorised, Pragmatic Feminist world:
today I had chuckguts. It started at 6.30am (which is more considerate than starting at, say 10pm and continuing on for 12 or so hours, a la Taswegia (do NOT eat at a restaurant called ‘Blue Skies’ in Hobart. It will make you vomit until you bust eyeball blood vessels)). It meant that I couldn’t go to my first yoga private today, which I was quite looking forward to. It meant that today I couldn’t eat the chochy we made last night (that’s chocolate brownies to you – last night The Squeeze brought me a mug of milk and the hot chocolate powder in a moment of confusion. I guess it’s kind of the same as a chocolate brownie and a glass of milk. There was also some comment about our old couch, but I forgot what exactly). I guess I could have eaten it, but I kind of like to keep my saturated fats/gross sugars in my body for more than, say… 3 minutes.
But I’m pretty much ok now, thanks. Not sure I want to go rollarskating, but you know.
*I want to make a joke about playing “I’m not touching you”, but I can’t. I can, however, make a mental note to make Clever and Witty Joke Entry about Dave’s Riki massage joke some day soon. It makes us both laugh and laugh. Which is perhaps more an indication of how much time we’ve spent at home over the past couple of months, but I like to think it’s because we’re witty and also carefree and lighthearted.