Monday — Work at the office is blah, and cold. I skip out early to beat the rush and finish things up at home. I’m finding that work is eating into my thinking time. Can’t let that happen; don’t want to get stuck in that rut again.
Tuesday — Time to return to the world (of Warcraft) and patch my game install ahead of the Cataclysm. But what should be a straight-forward process, maybe an hour or so for a 5GB file, ends up lasting the whole day and night. In fact my download doesn’t complete until 1am, with the installation taking another 90 minutes. I’m convinced the culprit is our ISP throttling the torrent, though of course I have no evidence of this, other than my righteous indignation.
Wednesday — First soup of the winter. I wing it with a leek and potato recipe that could do with a little work; the texture is spot-on, but it’s lacking in flavour. Lesson learned.
Thursday — I waste a morning at the local Zone of Pragmatic Deceit. That makes me two hours late for work, but at least I have a productive day from there on in (I wish I could say it was like Brian Eno’s, enlarging bums in Photoshop and all that, but we can’t all live such a charmed life).
Bee has dinner ready when I get home – a fragrant chicken curry with baked potato which is much appreciated. It was a bit of an experiment, she says; I hope she remembers the recipe so we can have it again.
Also, what’s all this about a storm?
Friday — So cold.
Saturday — Plans go out the window and we end up doing feck-all today. But it’s the good kind of feck-all. With added soup from the night before (a second run at leek and potato, this time with sweated onions).
Sunday — Questing in WoW today. Actually, I complete my 500th quest – a milestone I admit I never saw coming. By the by, it’s good to be back in charge of Grimmson after a few months away. And all that double XP means he’ll be up to level 60 (and ready for The Burning Crusade) in no time.
What a contrast to my real life, where I’ve barely dinged level 20.
Achievements unlocked: Just the one. Must do better. And less of the navel-gazing.