filler

This is when the daily thing gets tough. Two hours left in the day and I find myself staring a blank update page going ...dunno. I could write about... what's in my direct line of vision? A pile of clothes, half a Chocolate Orange, and a stuffed Loch Ness Monster with a derp face. None of that works.

OK, so what did I do today? I drank more milk than most people get through in two weeks. This is also not a good subject for a post.

Tomorrow? Work. Also discussing with my housemates what to do about our terrible landlord. I could write about that, but the rage is too strong and also she might somehow be reading this GO AWAY AN this is not for you the rights to my blog were not included in the contract with all the other shit you got and I didn't really mean you were terrible and YOU CAN'T EVICT ME I QUIT oh god now I don't have a house anymore and I should not write about this because it will break my mind.

Maybe I should look at my actual diary to see what's been on my mind. ...hah. No, the world does not need to know any of this. Sometimes the sixteen-year-old Goth with the long variety of stupid flowery OpenDiary handles takes over my fingers and makes me write some fascinatingly terrible melodramatic shit. Back in your box, Goth Jen. You can come out again next time there's a trip to Camden Market on the cards.

Other people on the internet are... taking photos of their children and watching Wimbledon. Nope.

Out on the street there are kids fighting, drug dealers sitting on front steps, and a local butcher who moves meat around by holding it directly in front of his face. I can't make a post out of that. Well, not right now. In the right frame of mind I could probably get a few hundred words out of almost being hit in the head with half a cow.

So maybe I have nothing to say. But I promised I'd say it anyway.

Tomorrow will be better than this. Promise.