Moderately, and boringly, happy. I can see the curly hair of Pip Ash from my room. J is cooking curry in the kitchen with A. ‘Mash the chickpeas’, she says, and then, ‘I have been impertinent lately, haven’t I?’ Last night she interpretively danced boiling milk as I sat on the fridge being Lord of the Kitchen.
After a break from the computer, no longer moderately, but massively, and excitedly, happy. Which is maybe still boring. It was the jacket potato and the balsamic vinegar. And the new New Pornographers album, and the prospect of a bath, and having a full fridge, and being nicely productive, and my haircut tomorrow, and half day off, and the boy being peaceable and wearing my favourite blue shirt, and Shakespeare.
Goddamn Right 