Serotonin Gnome #8, get back on the job

[substitute]

After several hours of abject self-hatred and black depression I attempted to sleep, which resulted in me perking up and feeling like a glass of milk and some Wodehouse. I haven'd had rapid-cycling moods like this since the Old Therapy Days. Nostalgie de la bleue, peut-etre?

[A priest passes by outside, intoning THERE IS NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH]

I'm as crazy as THREE German Expressionists!

I wonder how cats in the wild get their chins scratched?

When I was asleep for a short time an hour ago, I had a dream in computer logic. In the dream I was writing a Perl program that opened a file and sorted it into two columns, writing it out to a socket. But I felt the parser opening the file line by line and arranging the columns, as though I was kneading bread or combing the cat. This isn't the first time that's happened, either.

This week has been a naked lunch, every piece of food on every fork exposed.

A couple of fresh strawberries, cold from the fridge, excuses a lot of things in life.

Comments

[do-not-lick.livejournal.com]

Most of the behavior exhibited by house cats is actually kitten behavior -- the kinds of things kitten cats would do with their mothers in the wild. Due the constant pampering in domestic situations, housecats never really mature past the kitten phase, which is one reason it seems to us that they're exhibiting such non-survival oriented behavior.

At least that's what Desmond Morris says.