Mess

Not the type you can sweep away, though my room could do with a couple of sweeps by a super-robot programmed to clean, and mother’s been hawking at me to arrange my scattered notes, which has now assembled itself (somehow) into ancient Mayan-temple structures complete with residential silverfishes.

But it ain’t only messy in the humble abode. Assignments like carnival popcorn and confetti hurled with fireworks, meetings and greetings and chores and tasks set around like bowling pins that tumble into a crazed toppling frenzy. And then promises. Too many made, too many to answer to and too many to reject. No, don’t get me wrong; I’m not that popular. Just happen to be asked at very wrong times.

The rabbits have surpassed my expectations; having lived longer than I first assumed, they have now managed to give birth to a litter of 5. I was quite sure the placid, immensely passive male (Lucky) would never brave the guts to hump the incredulously nutty female (Happy), but voila, come Saturday yesterday, bro found the litter when he ran through his morning chores.

Initial and foremost family reaction:

Dad: Yay

Mom: *Shriek*

Bro: *Shriek* + *Curse* x Damn-there-you-go-more-liabilities.

Me: Heavens be damned, Lucky is actually capable of humping something + *sigh*

What’s troubling is that the female, or the inappropriately named Happy -should’ve been named Grouchy or Depressing-Syndrome, is rather inept at taking care of the litter. We’re now tasked with feeding them every morning, afternoon and night until they’re less susceptible to being trampled by their dear mom.

I’m dying to get my hands on The Deathly Hallows, which now sits between my brother’s lap, who is very sure that he’ll finish it by tonight or he’ll just have to skive work tomorrow. A few hundred people have already pounced on the trade of threatening me with spoilers they’ve managed to procured (they don’t read the books. They just spend their miserable time googling the ending and feeling proud of it). I ignore them and kindly asked that they give me a call 10 years later.

Somehow in the cascade of everything going wrong, my external DVD drive has broke. Just out of the warranty date. I am hated.

Oh damn every holy cattle in the nation of Zanzibar… I need a trepanning fix.