I'm in a fucking foul mood this morning.
Couldn't get to sleep last night. Was still awake at nearly three. Woken up at five, six, and seven o'clock by the dog - the last time because he wanted to be sick.

To top that all off, I kept dreaming that I had to get up early for something important and I couldn't sleep. Even my dreams hate me.

Alt: last week someone bought me the latest edition of the parachute book. This week I intend to read it, and fully expect to be gainfully employed by Friday.
( b3th Not shit. Not mod., Mon 11 Feb 2013, 9:46, 1 reply, 12 years ago)

Time to take it down to the pier with a large sack and some bricks.

( tangledupinblue hairy badge with moving eyes, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 9:48, Reply)

The sea in Weston is about a foot deep.
Not much drowning potential.
( b3th Not shit. Not mod., Mon 11 Feb 2013, 9:50, Reply)

Knock him out with one of the bricks first.

( tangledupinblue hairy badge with moving eyes, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 9:52, Reply)

:-(
It's my own fault, really. I gave him a lamb bone yesterday, forgetting that they always make him ill.
( b3th Not shit. Not mod., Mon 11 Feb 2013, 9:53, Reply)