Stoned

My dearest beloved is off work today. And tomorrow. And next Thursday. And next Friday. And the Thursday after that... and so on. Owing to a small "excess" of holiday days left at work, she's working a three day week for the whole of August. Alright for some.

So tomorrow while she's at home we're having two tonnes of gravel delivered. Two. Tonnes. That's 2,000 kilos of little bits of stone. This is to cover over the front garden. The plan is not to have stark gravel as a means of avoiding doing anything exciting with the garden, but instead to have stark gravel punctuated with spiky grasses and other unusual plants to create a pleasant minimalist garden. We're told that the garden being on a slight slope shouldn't be too much of a problem. We also have some pellets that are basically extracts of lion dung that in theory will mark the garden as territory of a Very Big Cat(TM) and therefore discourage other cats from approaching it and using the gravel as a big outdoor litter tray.

Things also need to occur in the back garden. There are two huge great conifers in there that are way too big for the garden, so we need to get them removed. Assuming the council will let us remove them, of course. Then we need a funky patio. We've seen the funky patio that needs to be in our back garden. We're not altogether sure how we're gonna finance the sating of this need, but the patio is definitely needed, and it has to be the funky patio that we've identified as being perfect to our needs. Unfunky patios are just not, well, funky.

My job is wasting me. I do not feel like I am making productive use of my time. Still, it is Only Until I Get Published(TM).

I may have to copy Phyntosia later and do a recipe entry. After reading her 100 things entry and the healthily cynical comments about how everyone has to have a 100 things entry, I'm proud to say that this is my 259th entry and I still haven't written a 100 things entry. I also know that a lot of the diaries I read don't have them either. I know why people write them, and that's fair enough, but a lot of people seem to think they're an essential if you've got a diary. If you want to know 100 things about me, read my first 50 or 60 entries, I'm sure they contain enough facts between them.

I got MicroMachines for the XBox, but it's virtually unplayable, so I'm taking it back and changing it for... something. Feh.

It's 9 days until my brother's wedding, and I'm starting to cack it.