Ah, 1:30am, my old friend.

It is, as I may have mentioned, 1:30am. It's cold. It's not really dreadfully cold, but it's cold in that my body is tired and wants to be in bed, and my head is saying 'no, you need to stay up longer'. I've entirely failed to even look at the PILS manual (it's over there --->), and have also failed to do anything useful with my extra awake time.

Those readers who've, uh, read this journal before will know that me being up at 1:30 on a Sunday symbolises something in particular, and no, it's not that I'm at a particularly good club/party (even I would probably not post while at a party, or a club. I can't guarantee I wouldn't, but it's pretty unlikely given that my laptop wouldn't be able to join me). Yes, it's that fun-old week of nights.

Woot.

Somehow, the prospect of swinging my body clock around 12 hours so I can see drunk people voming everywhere and strange people turning up at 2am to inform me that 'their nose is a bit sore' is feeling less than appealing. It doesn't help that it's cold. I never like being cold. The only good thing about working nights in winter is that when you get out into the cold morning air, start the car, and drive; you're driving home to your duvet and comfy bed.

That's quite a nice feeling. The crisp early morning air ushering you into a nice, warm, restful sleep.

The fact that you don't see daylight for a week, and that I won't get to spend more than a couple of brief hours with my love every day? That sucks. Royally.

It does not, of course, change anything.

Now; what this evening has allowed me to discover is that:
1) They did cancel Men In Trees, the arseholes.
2) BSG isn't on 'til January (although there does appear to be an intriguing spin off series).
3) Exes and Ohs made it to a second season; but it doesn't air 'til January.
4) Widescreen TVs are much cheaper than monitors; however, what we want is a widescreen monitor because then we could forgo the TV licence. I, film lover that I am, really don't want to give up the Shiny Shiny 36" Philips, because, frankly it's a darn nice telly. Well, I'm quite happy to give it up. Just I want something pretty similar in the LCD stakes to replace it, and I don't see that happening in our price range, which is distressing. So I really should get around to hooking up the TV, I s'pose. However, to do it neatly requires...lifting the floor boards :(
5) Fresh mussels taste way better than the ones you get in a pack.
6) My guilt levels rise quite a lot when dealing with 'live' mussels.

However, the two last points to raise an interesting thing; we had fresh seafood stew for dinner, and it was - wait for it - Yummy. I am forever amazed at the complexity and detail of flavours from freshly cooked food. This stew was extraordinarily expensive compared to our average meal, but it was damn good.

I think the thing is, people get used to the pre-processed crap that they sell in the stores; once you stop eating the pre-processed crap, and start eating real food again, when you do eat the pre-processed stuff it becomes immediately apparently that it really is worth cooking the stuff yourself. But then you get into the whole better quality ingredients yeild better quality results. I know that if we could afford better quality veg and fruit it would taste better; I know this because I've eaten food from my mum - and it adds a whole new set of subtle and complex flavours - but as it is we eat damn well considering our income is pretty miniscule. In fact, unless I win my money back from a certain car restorer who'll remain nameless until I get my act together and accept going to court (which I will, it's just being certain that I'm ready to present my case well) or win the lottery, then actually our income meets our outgoings but doesn't pay off my pre-existing debts (that's why I do three jobs).

Incidentally PM Brown - your parties management of the economy may be saving you - but I'm unlikely ever to vote for a party that means that I have to work 3 jobs just to eat/pay bills/get to and from work.

Anyway, I've hit the 2am target. My body is crying out for the bed upstairs, and my brain is weak and feeble and willing to give in. Today is another day, and I'll be up later do wash uniforms and coax myself into working for the breaded peanuts that get sent to my account.

Oooh, that reminds me; some arse got access to my paypal account and attempted to transfer 635 quid! Thankfully, and I say this quite definately with my hand on heart and praise-where-it's-due-to-paypal, they stomped on it and I've been round changing passwords and stuff.

I suspect it's the computer at work that I used to buy something-or-other; but quite frankly it's a bit of a shock.

In other news, the pyoor.org website is renewed for another exciting year. Whilst the domain is handy, and I like (being the control freak that I am, over technology at least) having my own Wordpress copy of the journal (mmm, my own database), I don't really make much use of the rest of the webspace; although I have ideas... clever ones. Well, okay, other people had ideas. Well, I had an idea and I looked and someone else had done the clever programming bit and thus I can be the lazy arse mare :)

And therefore, the pyoor.org domain now sports Flickr integration. Just check out http://pyoor.org/wordpress/photos for the win :)

Check check checkedy check

Tired: Check
Awake too early: Check
Failed to do any PILS: Check
Picked up ChangeOfNameForDrivingLicenceFormSinceTheyDidn'tSendItToMe: Check
Changed name at GP: Check
Dropped off Prescription Repeat: Check
Tired: Check. Oh, I did that one already.

I'm currently attempting to suck down the entire internet, this is because I've discovered that Pushing Daisies made it to Season 2. Well, technically I think that's actually the second half of Season 1. There I was bemoaning the absence of BSG from the TV and suddenly I find myself suffused in the joy of Pushing Daisies.

It's weird, for someone who really doesn't watch very much TV I have the shows I like, and I do like to watch 'em.

Anyhow. On the way back from my little trip out into the cold wet world, I poked my nose in to the abandoned garage down the road. That was a bit of an experience. Having discovered that the door is, in fact, not actually attached, merely propped and held by the padlock (the hinges have gone the way of, something, uh, dodo related); I felt that it didn't really matter too much if I stuck my head round. So I did. And then my body, and following that, my legs. I'm not convinced it's even useable. I had thought I could try and contact the owner of the property and rent/borrow the garage. But having looked inside, the roof is, as I vaguely recalled, held up by a scaffold prop. In fact, the roof in the little atrium bit I stuck my head into is not, in fact, held up by anything other than 'being there'. The prop having long since failed to do anything useful, because the joist next to the prop's fallen down (it's held up by a ladder, leaning against the wall), and the next joist along is just hanging in mid air.

The shelter provided by the front would be handy, but it really needs re-roofing; or at least, some new joists. And I doubt the current owner, with his plans to pull it down, would really give a fig about the fact that the roof's about to cave in.

It is still vaguely tempting to ask around to find out if anyone has the owner's address, 'cos if he'd let me use it for free, then it'd be quite handy - I could spend 20 quid on new joists and repair the bit of roof I need, caring little for the atrium, and work on the cars in there.

Anyway, at the moment I feel like sleeping, so I might just do that, and wait for Kathryn to ring and say she's nearing Slough so as I can go meet her, get photos, and we can send off the Visa application.