life is a Funny Thing

Life is a funny thing. It can chew you up, spit you out, occasionally steal your hairbrush, but what makes you really want to shake your fist in its general direction is when you realise that, quite against your wishes, it has set itself to fast forward.

Since when was it allowed to be April already? I’m fairly certain I did not give permission for this to happen. I’ve got a pile of dirty dishes, a dog who wants walking, and 12,000 words of what is supposed to a 10,000 word report sitting on my hard drive. Thank you, life.

But the scariest part isn’t the ballooning report or the whining spaniel (I’ll take him out in a moment), it’s the young man bursting through the door downstairs. My kid brother has just passed his driving theory test. (Well, I haven’t actually checked that yet. But seeing as our mother very kindly told him not to bother coming home if he failed it a second time, I’m assuming the news is good.)

My little brother is learning to drive. Worse than that, last week my little brother bought me a drink in the Hobbit pub! They say time flies when you’re having fun. I’m of the growing opinion that time just flies if you don’t nail it down.

But enough of the past. (It mostly involves me and my brother hitting each other with bricks anyway.) The future is far more exciting. May 6th, in particular, is the gleeful host of two very important events. The first is the general election. (Vote Jedi!) The second is my project report deadline.

Yes, that report. The one that’s currently 12,000 words and still a long way from finished. I’ve tried looking up the word “concise” in the dictionary, but I think I may need someone to explain the concept to me using instructive diagrams. Which reminds me, I’ve still got that growing list of report-related diagrams I need to construct in a combination of Adobe Photoshop and MSPaint (which is a little like using a combination of a dentist’s drill and a sledge-hammer to crack the same nut). At the end of all this, I hope to magic the entire thing into LaTeX, whereupon I will be declared the Messiah and carried off to Narnia to live happily ever after with Optimus Prime and the Joker.

Which is my way of saying that this is not very likely to happen.

LaTeX doesn’t like me. In fact, I’m fairly certain that LaTeX once mugged me outside Lanchester and made off with my wallet. (I can’t possible have spent all that money on my own.) My only hope of taming this beast lies in bribing my housemate with bramley apple pies until he helps me.

For that I’ll need my wallet back.

(My brother DID pass, by the way. Looks like mum won’t have to guillotine him after all.)