South Park Self

I hate this weather. *world's smallest violin*

Weather still stinking: I am negotiating the day by dint of dousing myself liberally with the mist sprayer at intervals, under the pretence of spraying my Japanese peace lily. It survived my three week absence with precisely one watering (I came in to the office specially) without dying, I figure it's deserved it. The weather, praise FSM, is supposed to cool down from tomorrow, and there should be rain over the weekend. Not a moment too soon. In the meantime, Cape Town is taunting me with small, fat, puffy clouds shaped like snowmen. Or scoops of ice-cream. Or other cold things.



In other news, Bohemian Rhapsody played with four violins. It would be better as a string quartet, on the Section Quartet principle, but this is rather fun. I love quartet versions of rock music, they strip the song down to its essentials so you can see what it's actually doing, musically - it's far more revealing than a full orchestral version. It's also odd, because generally I loathe violin. This, however, works.



In other, other news, eek. Today is the 6th. This makes it my Evil Landlord's birthday. I had totally not registered the date. Or, in fact, the year. Happy birthday, Evil Landlord.
  • Current Mood: drained deaded by hot
  • Current Music: Section Quartet, because I've been reminded of their existence
If an Evil Landlord is wished happy birthday via a medium he pretends doesn't exist, is his aging transferred to a tree in a silent forest?