Some stories

It's now 00:42, which means it isn't yesterday anymore, but today, so I can officially write a new blog post without looking like a sad freak who has nothing better to do with their time than post blog posts. The truth is that there is so much to write about the happenings in and around our house, that there just isn't enough time to type it all up and then make it look pretty, and then make it sound like we shouldn't be locked up, and then make it identity safe. Like the time I told some stranger that Clatalie was in actual fact called Sharon. In my defense, it had to be done, there was just no room for any other kind of reaction.

Anyway, here's what happened today. Our other housemate, Liz, called the emergency gas because our street has been smelling of gas for weeks now, and after I had had a weird dream in which I could smell gas in our house, and she had watched a scary programme in which a house blew up because of gas, she decided it would be safer to be on the safe side. OK, she may not have known about the dream, but still. It was a bit of a weird coincidence!
So Mr. Gasman arrived, and I think he scared Otis Burble a bit, because Otis Burble hasn't quite been himself today. He murmured that he was going into owl hibernation, but I told him that there was no point, because we'll all have moved out in two weeks and he may as well stay up for the fun while he can. He just blinked at me and I haven't quite figured out what the blinking means, so I couldn't tell you what he meant by it.

That was it really, I don't know what Mr. Gasman found, and seeing as Clatalie has been packing all day, I guess not much else excitement has happened in our strangely quite corner of the world. As we were watching teli tonight, we told each other why How I Met Your Mother or The Big Bang Theory was better than the other, and have made a very interesting discovery: we both really like both shows, but for me, How I Met Your Mother wins, and for Clatalie, The Big Bang Theory wins. Why? Because the difference in the theme tunes is that TBBT has words in it and HIMYM doesn't! My verbal memory is rubbish, so singing ba - ba - baba - baaaaa is soooo much easier than singing ... well, I can't remember the words. And obviously, seeking a career that deals with words means that Clatalie has a bit of an affection for language, and a really good verbal memory.

Just in case you may not have found the above stories very interesting, here's a really interesting one. I was in the park recently with Abi, and we found a dead bee and put him on a bread crumb to make it look like he was eating it. I think if the bee had still been alive, we would have become very good friends, so I'm calling him Bizzy.