This is the song that never ends...

I have to be at work in eight hours and here I am, still in front of the computer looking for every reason not to go to bed. These jigsaw puzzles on the Nat Geo site are a great way to waste time; so is Buzzfeed (excepting the terrible quality of their articles).

I've finally settled into a routine I'm more or less happy with. My "days off" I spend writing driving myself crazy drinking more coffee than is probably good for me and staring at a screen long enough to make my eyes cross. I haven't turned on the tv in weeks. I only know the hockey and basketball scores because I check them during plant store breaks, and it's only because I have a bet going on with my mother about when Rob Ford will resign that I read the news. Thoreau had it right when he said that newspapers are just formal versions of gossip: short of something like a revolution or civil war in the developed world, you could replace the cast of characters with one from hundreds of years ago and the story'd still be the same.

When I've done writing all day for a day or two, I'm happy to get outside and work at the plant store, even if it means feeling woozy in almost 40C humidity. Almost. Feeling like you're working in a bowl of soup isn't fun, and it takes a looong time for that feeling to go away. Even the A/C in Pizza Pizza doesn't help, it just makes me feel cold and sweaty instead of warm and sweaty.

Also, why aren't the flowers in my hanging-basket-that-isn't-actually-hanging...? Everything else is shooting up like a weed and making me think that maybe my thumbs aren't so black after all, but then I take a look at that forlorn half-sphere in the corner and wonder if I got ahead of myself.