1. Things that are shaping up to be a tremendous pain in the ass
(a) Dealing with the evil empire of Nespresso, the Scientologists of coffee, over my defective, capsule eating, money pit of a coffee machine. Do I have a receipt? No. I do not appear to have a receipt. WOE! WOE! I will be ejected from the shiny, sinister boutique where everyone wears cravats and looks like flight attendants, and sent down to some basement dungeon where John Malkovitch will kick me to death. It is my own fault for having beverage aspirations above my pay grade, I expect.
(b) The garden. A man comes to give me a quote for making the garden look less fucked. He is a lovely, helpful man. Truly. As part of his helpfulness, and to save me money, he tells me that both my main areas of concern are in fact my neighbours responsibility. I think he doesn't quite appreciate that I would rather gnaw down the over-hanging branches with my teeth than get into neighbour unpleasantness on the one side, and negotiations with my landlady on the other. Ah, British social awkwardness and conflict avoidance is a force to be reckoned with. My landlady's default position on everything is that it is my fault. I can't really blame her, that's my default position too, but she is impressively convinced of my fecklessness.
E: Er.. the heating is not working and I have no hot water?
L: WHAT DID YOU TOUCH????? DID YOU FIDDLE WITH THE THERMOSTAT?????
E: Er .. the house next door that you own is leaking water into my basement damaging my stuff?
L: WHY ON EARTH DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SOONER IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT.
(c) These talking easter eggs I bought for virtually no money from discount shop, Blokker.
No, that seems like a perfectly sensible idea! It's as if the drowning in the fishtank, then burying, of the Tamagotchi never happened. And no-one mention the dreaded 'bougie magique' that sang, drunkenly, as it set the flat on fire. Small cheap electronic novelties are ALWAYS a good idea, right?
(Blokker reminds me of Boyes in the UK. It has that same smell of long-outlawed solvents, remaindered confectionery and insane bargains. I love it.)
2. Consider the mouse deer
E: The mouse deer blows my mind. I mean .. how? I keep staring. Is it photoshop? I can't believe it actually exists.
Cephalopod correspondent: How does the mouse deer WALK? I want to see it in motion. I can't imagine it do anything other than totter appealingly.
M: Isn't that the one I put Helena Bonham Carter's face on?
3. The goat part
The ING, my long-suffering, but also rubbish, bank, have released this advert featuring a man getting his toes licked by a goat. I can't help but admire it. Of course, in real life the goat would eat his whole foot. Then his computer. Then his wallet. Then the rest of him.
4. Paris fantasy
M and I spent some time yesterday cheering ourselves up by imagining a perfect day in Paris. It started innocuously enough with me moaning about how very much I want a trip to superior frozen foods purveyor, Picard (they actually deliver to Belgium online, but I want a trip to the shop to peer into the freezers and choose 18 boxes of miniature salted caramel eclairs, to eat before they are entirely defrosted).
M: OH MY FUCKING GOD. I would kill for that. And I want a sandwich grec by Notre Dame somewhere with super hot fries.
E: Do you? I want to go back to that cold soba and crispy crispy tempura place in the 2ème.
M: Yes! And then the lovely box of petits fours for pudding.
E: (simultaneously) And the Sadaharu Aoki petit fours. Lots of them.
M: Then we could go to Maje and buy shit.
E: Or Le Bon Marché. Because then we could stop off at La Grande Epicerie .We might be too fat to fit into any clothes, so we could just go to the park and fall asleep.
M: In the shade of a fat pony. We would feed them outrageously expensive sugar from La Grande Epicerie.
E: Couldn't we just steal some sugar from a café?
M: Oh god, yes, a café. We can sit on a terrasse and laugh at passers-by. And have one of those amazing giant hot chocolates. And a cappucino éclair (from here, cake lovers). Could we go to a spa? Caudalie or something?
E: I went to the Caudalie spa in the Meurice once, when I had money. (sighs. Then brightens.) I hear the Nuxe spa is lovely.
M: Nuxe. Yeah, Nuxe. Sounds like 'luxe'. Must be good.
E: What's for dinner?
M: Hmm. Some sort of bistrot familal. Roast chicken and truffle mash.
I am supposed to be meeting Alexa in Paris next week, so maybe I can drag her on some small part of this fantasy trip? If I had to select one, it would definitely be Sadaharu Aoki (This Is Why You're Fat, part 873).
We were both enormously cheered by this, so I suggest you do it too. Ideal day in your favourite place. Blog it and link, or put it in the comments.
When you find yourself musing out loud to yourself "Why you hatin'? I LOVE Pokémon! I wanna collect ALL them motherfuckers!" as you wash the floor (again), it may be time to step away from solitary confinement and the internet.