Manual Labour

I sort of wrote stuff for you yesterday, readership.
I just didn't get around to putting it online.
All written by hand these days.
That's how I've been doing the posts.
Don't ask me why.
I told you not to ask me!
I miss the tactility of it.
Spell check says it's a word.
I used to write everything by hand.
First draft!
Then I eventually stopped.
Around the time that my first real-life relationship ended, I guess.
There are three planks of wood immediately adjacent my little computer desk.
I've never noticed them before.
Not sure how long they've been there.
I'll snag a photo for you.
That should liven this place up.
Speaking of which, I really need to change the look of this blog.
I have no idea how I'm going to do that.
After fucking up my first attempt, I'm less inclined to try again.
"Quit soon. Quit often."
That's what I always say.
I don't always say it; sometimes I'm sleeping.
I walked to the Dalhousie library yesterday.
I've been trying to find a nice writing place to go to.
I hate writing anything in my home (excuse), so I like to search for places to go.
And I'm sick of places that I have to buy coffees to sit in.
That's a toll.
That's a writing toll.
But by the time I got there and sat down, I just felt like going home again.
I watched the lady janitor mop for a little bit and tried to live inside her head.
Please excuse the flashy title:

Thoughts of A Woman With A Mop at A University Library

I wouldn't mind mopping their insides once they're out, if they'd just invite me to some of their parties.
I'm more than these abrasive cleaners.
I own halter tops.
Who says a janitor can't clean up? (didn't even notice this pun until now)
Janitors are as close as an employed person can be to a homeless person.
Everyone feels sorry for me.
No one makes eye contact with me.
Everyone assumes I only eat food out of cans.
Y'know. A janitor.
Where was I?
Ah yes! The parties.
I thought a campus would turn things around for me.
Why did I even bother learning to shuffle?
I guess this is still better than sweeping up chicken innards and beaks.
But I thought this would be more entertaining.
Like the janitor on animal house.

Then I stopped because I wasn't sure if there was a janitor on Animal House.