![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Aug. 13th, 2008 05:16 pmToday is curious and charming.
Eight poems and one short-short have been put in already for the Mental Health Week booklet. My students commented that it was due to a combination between my amazing whipwielding skills and my offer to type anything less than ten lines long. This became a general 'type anything not too long' as quite a few of the poems were a bit over ten lines and I've emailed it all and my role in this is over till Mental Health Week itself.
I have a new desk chair and I ache from rolling it home over the asphalt (isn't that part of a song in The Magic Pudding, rolling home along the asphalt? No, I fear not. It should have been.). I was carrying three heavy bags of stationery while I was rolling that chair, and at times the chair had to be lifted and carried for thirty yards (at three different times) so I did a complicated juggling act. For the last bit, I left the chair at the bus stop and put all my bags at my back door, then I fetched the chair separately, carrying it boldly above my head and almost getting it tangled in a gum tree. Yes, I received many odd looks and wry smiles. No, no-one offered to help.
I raced online to find out if I had made a terrible mistake with my chair. I thought I was saving a bunch and had been given an amazing deal. When I was faced with the computer I thought "I bet I was wrong." I was not wrong. I saved at least $120.
My old chair (a Gregory's with a spring busted and in need of a clean, but otherwise good) will go to the first person who waves a hand madly and is willing to collect it. For anyone who hasn't encountered Gregory chairs before, they're designed by a physio rather than a furniture designer and they are amazing. They never go on sale. If Corporate Express in Phillip wasn't closing down, I would still be eyeing them off, wistfully, as I have been since I started working out how to improve my working life. The old one doesn't give me the support it used to and one thing I have learned about RSI is that a chair can make all the difference. Even one that has been rolled a quarter mile and across a major road.
I can't remember the other curious and charming things in my day, though I'm certain they existed. I could give you medical news, but I shall kindly refrain. I could give you financial news, but between the chair and my new stove (which is being made this very week, from scratch, for me - it's a long and strange story) I have no finances. I really, really needed that new stove (no working oven, no working grill and only 2 properly working electric elements on the old stove) and the old chair has kept my work hours down a bit. My tax return paid for the chair and my supperannuation was plundered for the stove. And now you know the dark truth of these acquisitions. I rather suspect, though, that both of them will be worth every cent.
Tonight I gallivant. Pizza and Invader Zim share the menu, I suspect. This is vaguely worrying.
Eight poems and one short-short have been put in already for the Mental Health Week booklet. My students commented that it was due to a combination between my amazing whipwielding skills and my offer to type anything less than ten lines long. This became a general 'type anything not too long' as quite a few of the poems were a bit over ten lines and I've emailed it all and my role in this is over till Mental Health Week itself.
I have a new desk chair and I ache from rolling it home over the asphalt (isn't that part of a song in The Magic Pudding, rolling home along the asphalt? No, I fear not. It should have been.). I was carrying three heavy bags of stationery while I was rolling that chair, and at times the chair had to be lifted and carried for thirty yards (at three different times) so I did a complicated juggling act. For the last bit, I left the chair at the bus stop and put all my bags at my back door, then I fetched the chair separately, carrying it boldly above my head and almost getting it tangled in a gum tree. Yes, I received many odd looks and wry smiles. No, no-one offered to help.
I raced online to find out if I had made a terrible mistake with my chair. I thought I was saving a bunch and had been given an amazing deal. When I was faced with the computer I thought "I bet I was wrong." I was not wrong. I saved at least $120.
My old chair (a Gregory's with a spring busted and in need of a clean, but otherwise good) will go to the first person who waves a hand madly and is willing to collect it. For anyone who hasn't encountered Gregory chairs before, they're designed by a physio rather than a furniture designer and they are amazing. They never go on sale. If Corporate Express in Phillip wasn't closing down, I would still be eyeing them off, wistfully, as I have been since I started working out how to improve my working life. The old one doesn't give me the support it used to and one thing I have learned about RSI is that a chair can make all the difference. Even one that has been rolled a quarter mile and across a major road.
I can't remember the other curious and charming things in my day, though I'm certain they existed. I could give you medical news, but I shall kindly refrain. I could give you financial news, but between the chair and my new stove (which is being made this very week, from scratch, for me - it's a long and strange story) I have no finances. I really, really needed that new stove (no working oven, no working grill and only 2 properly working electric elements on the old stove) and the old chair has kept my work hours down a bit. My tax return paid for the chair and my supperannuation was plundered for the stove. And now you know the dark truth of these acquisitions. I rather suspect, though, that both of them will be worth every cent.
Tonight I gallivant. Pizza and Invader Zim share the menu, I suspect. This is vaguely worrying.