Glitch. And Son of Glitch. And damn.

I have just found out, to my intense irritation, that some of my posts don’t appear in all browsers or at all times or on all computers. I swear, I really swear, I am posting daily. But the internet gremlins are clearly a censorious little bunch of toadstools [with excellent taste, of course - Ed] and there we have it. Glitch. Unfixable, because whenever I’m actually logged in, everything is present and correct, if drivel and rubbish, so I can’t see whatever it is I need to see to know why you, oh gracious readers, can’t see, and you know what? At this rate, Bernard Levin can kiss my subordinate clauses (metaphorically. On account of being dead for three years). And I do feel that this paragraph has gone to hell in a hand-cart, taking any gist it ever had down with it.

['Twas ever thus.]

It is also time to plunge back into the serried armies of lectures and seminars and practicals and viewing the Library as a source of (sporadic, possible) information and neurotic hives rather than a cause of irritation and, err, hives. As work is savagely kicking my arse at the moment, I have an inkling, in a pocket somewhere, that I will at some rapidly approaching point, melt down. Possibly with tears, and alcohol on a week-night, and such.

Or maybe it’s just the horrifyingly imminent prospect of the Christmas Holidays. You think I’m being funny. Ahh, no, Christmas is a Slough of Despond and of dismal pressure to be jolly in the face of a dog-pile of tragic memories at the moment. Ze familee, you zee, iz broken.

In any case, Universe one, Reed nil.

Update: Found glitch. My own very dumb fault. Universe two, Reed nil.

This entry was posted in NaBloPoMo 2007, The Capacious Hold-All, University. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Glitch. And Son of Glitch. And damn.

  1. Lilian says:

    Dear Reed. Even when you’re miserable you’re still brilliant.

    Hope you start winning soon.

  2. Pingback: Tales from The Web « Charlotte’s Web

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