Creepy   Leave a comment

And you really wouldn’t believe the terms of service.

Monday the 30th. Back to work again. Unfortunately, I’m still a lot better at doing work when I’m not supposed to be than when I am; I know it’s stupid, but I’ll sometimes stare at my computer all day, getting nothing done, then work all evening. It’s annoying, because if I’d got it all done when I was supposed to I could spend the time doing something interesting or worthwhile instead, but no. My free time is wasted on work. And it’s nobody’s stupid fault but my own. I do not understand. It makes no sense. And that makes it even more exasperating.

Sometimes it feels more like I’m merely a helpless spectator watching the world through a certain pair of eyes, rather than an entity with any level of control over the eighty kilos of meat and bone it rattles around in.

At least I made it to the gym. I even had a go on the treadmill for the first time since Chrimbletide. Not really for any kind of exercise reason, but because when I was ready to go on the uphill cross-trainer things, there were already a couple of other people using them. Including the one I always use, because different machines give different readings. So, do I go and use a different machine than normal and, worse, a machine next to somebody else? Or do I use the treadmill for a change? It wasn’t a hard choice.

I didn’t manage much else for the rest of the day. It’s amazing how quickly time passes, sometimes. Google spammed me a bit about their privacy policy, claiming it was important, but I don’t really care; I always assume that anyone who gets their mits on my details will abuse them at least as much as they can get away with, regardless of what it says in any policies they might publish. So why bother reading them? I can make up much better lies myself; Google’s new privacy policy is to print out any and all personal details onto paper made from alfalfa, and then feed it to unicorns. I like unicorns, so I’m fine with that.

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Posted 7 February 2012 by Colthor in Diary

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