February 1st, 2008


Not about McGyver

...because we ended up watching 'House'. The night was good; Hammond couldn't come but Elizabeth did, and we wound up spooning in my big bed while sniggering at the exploits of the good doctor. I put off leaving for work until the absolute last minute. Now I'm wearing Liz's leather "Librarians Are Sexy" wrist cuff for moral support, and I will not crawl into bed alone tomorrow morning.

The low light of the ops room conceals the awful soggy appearence of my service-station chicken salad roll, though it also gives the cheese a disturbing green tinge. At least I think that's green. I'm colorblind, how should I know?

Anyway, every night this week I've tried some different form of service-station food and not one has warranted a repeat performance. Bread-based products score particularly badly, as the bread used always has a texture reminiscent of it being dunked in lukewarm dishwater, wrung out, then packaged as normal. Yet I persist in losing weight in teeny tiny steps. I attribute this to the cells of my body taking one look at the servo food and going, "Blergh! We're not metabolising THAT!"

Excuse me, I have to go doze on a couch. I've found many creative ways to add to my sleep deficit this week and I'm starting to feel it.