A car just drove by playing paul simon's "i know what i know" very loudly. The bouncy african chorus combined with the doppler effect made it sound like the chipmunks were having an enthusiastic threesome in his back seat. Just saying.

I hate fighting. ARRRRRRR BOY'S WRISTS HEAL NOW. He is twice as fighty as usual because his wrists hurt and he feels helpless. And I am four times as fighty as usual because I am doing his chores and when he gets fighty I get fightier just instinctively. Seriously, if someone on the street said "You CANNOT DO THAT" to me I would probably say "Oh yeah! WATCH ME!" before even finding out if they meant "leap fifty feet! why that's physically impossible" or "lick my crotch" Ew. I am not saying boy is a random drunk guy on the street or that he (or any random drunken pedestrians) has commanded me to lick his crotch, that was just an extreme example not based in reality. Wesley Willis tune maybe, reality no. Anyway. I feel like an ant in a bottle someone is shaking. My weak little heart can't take all this fight/make up/fight/make up shit. I mean, I know intellectually that it's all just random nonsense and I expect it will pass in 3 weeks when the casts come off but ooh! It still /feels/ unpleasant. Blah.

Tomorrow I will go berry picking! Come here nettles, it is your annual chance to sting me in exchange for my getting sweet sweet okay sour sour blackberries. Then on sunday: more berry picking. Then on sunday night: berry crumble. Mmmm. Also 100 little jars of jelly for wedding favours, whee. I can't decide how to do the labels. Printing them would be easier, but the zine has presented me with a temporary hatred of electrical copying devices. Well, boss is on vacation next week, maybe I'll just sit at my desk hand-lettering things. Perhaps on duct tape. Only that sounds terribly fussy.

The zine is done! Yay! It turned out very nice and I was not caught making 2000 copies. Well, the cleaning person saw me, I was there at 7:30 when she made her rounds and I finished finally at ten to ten. We had a little chat. She has never seen anyone in my office before - most of the office starts at 6:30am and everyone is in by 8, so no one sticks around much past 3 or 4 - but she sees all our desk decorations & stuff every day, and our garbage. I can't decide which is more intimate. Anyway I gave her a brief tour. She keeps getting flowers because she is pregnant; he IS a total packrat, yeah!; she is working from home so she never has any trash; he is on a crazy protein diet so he always has the same thing from the foodcourt; that's my desk I have a lot of penpals sending me paper trinkets for my desk. I think maybe I would like being a late-night cleaner. Well, not the cleaning or the being up late and never seeing my friends part, but the lonely desk voyeurism, making up stories to explain the people. Sort of amateur archaeology.