I just discovered a new mail-order catalog of trinkets, gadgets and generally old-fashioned unusable unthinkable unbearable stuff. Even though most of the items are lethally dainty(*), I could just spend hours watching the pictures and imagining how I’d decorate a room, how I’d arrange furniture and accessories in the empty space of my brain (oh, how it’s empty and windy and lonely in there).

But that doesn’t make a good motivation to find a job and a flat and a life and a dog: because dogs keep messing things up and breaking everything and they’re just filthy and… wait, no, that wasn’t where I was going. Because I’m not stable enough: I’d keep buying and buying and buying new stuff to replace what I’d be bored with, and I’d end up as broke as I am right now. Now there’s something classy about going bankrupt over egyptian hippos, isn’t there? There isn’t? Well, I guess I won’t invite you home then. Your loss. Yeah. Really.

(*) I just hate it when my French-English dictionary gives me words I’ve never seen and don’t know how to use. I’m lucky enough (well, it’s not luck, it’s actually knowledge and talent and general greatness of me) that it doesn’t happen too often. I know most of the vocabulary I need to discuss software, TV, or sex, but when it comes to pewter figurines I’m pretty much lost (and I don’t actually feel the need to get too much documentation). So I just wanted to apologize if anything comes out awkward in this post or another. Because I’m not gonna apologize each and every time, so this will be it. Now on with the psychedelic hippos. Well, I was all done with them, actually.