Weeknotes 029 - Migraines, Radish and a Functional Keyboard

First harvest from the vegetable patch.

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The second half of this week was mired with an almost migraine. The type that bubbles under the surface, threatening to go full-blown if you don't play its game enough. In this case, the game was: don't do anything that's not sitting in a dark room for particularly long. Just enough time to do sandwich making, but nothing useful. Which is super frustrating as I don't do feeling non-productive well. So that was a bummer.

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Keyboard update.

The keycaps from China arrived, just-in-time too, the D key had started double-pressing sometimes. I don't even know how that's a mechanical thing, but popping it out and swapping in a new keycap seemed to do the trick. E, D, O and left ⌘-Cmd key are all new.


There's something a little off about them, slightly flatter, travel less, the play is a bit different, not enough to cause trouble, but something about them I can't quite put my finger on.

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For a hot second, I was required to go into the front-outside today, so I grabbed my facemask to get prepared. Who knew that the future tribes of the apocalypse would be divided into the sickly undercast of weak-ears and the ruling elite strong-ears tribe. Alas, I am of weak-ear stock, slowly folding forwards until the mask pings off. I shall have to infiltrate the strong-ears using crochet and buttons.

Fortunately in the end I didn't have to go out, limp eared problem avoided.

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I decided that I was now the type of man who had a penknife in his pocket; I'm at the right age for it. This turned out to be harder than I was expecting due to the "no locking blades" law we have in the UK, and most blades seem to be locking.

I ended up with a tiny penknife, consisting of knife (non-locking), nail file (for escaping from jails), toothpick (I guess), tweezers (never going to use) and flat screw head on the end of the nail file (going to use all the time).

"That's tiny!" said my wife, "You're going to lose that."

"I shall not", and then I went on to explain how "it's going to live in my left pocket. Whenever I use it, it'll go right back in there, it'll be my left-hand-pocket-pocketknife".

While clearing brambles in the back-outside a teeny-tiny, but surprisingly sharp thorn pierced the gardening glove and stuck itself into my finger. "If only I were the practical sort of man to have a tiny pair of tweezers to remove this annoying prickle," I said to myself before turning to an imaginary fourth wall to break, due to watching too much Miranda recently, and sometimes imagining I'm living in my own sitcom. A hangover from being a teenager who was obsessed with American TV and a flare for the theatrically dramatic when left in the house on my own, which was surprisingly often.

I patted my pocket before remembering that I was wearing the wrong trousers. I had my gardening trousers[1] on, not my practical-but-who-still-doesn't-want-them-to-get-covered-in-dirt-man trousers.

The penknife was predictably not in my other trouser pocket either, and I'd somehow lost it, despite a) not going anywhere and b) not using it.

I have of course ordered a second penknife which will hopefully arrive before I have to admit to losing the first one. Although opening the packaging will once again be a pain in the ass, my battle with sellotape having been one of the things that started all of this in the first place.

In comedy sitcom tradition the first one will turn up, and I'll have to keep them apart in different ends of the house to prevent my ineptitude from being discovered.

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Once again this week I was going to write about the tools I've written, once again I'm not going to get around to it.

The nearly-but-not-quite migraine has made me tired and grumpy, so I'm just chilling and giving myself a break by not forcing myself to write long ass weeknotes as usual.

Instead, I'm watching Escape from New York.

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[1] My old trousers, despite being patched and repaired several times, are now gardening trousers, due to them wearing away at the crotch. Something that most likely contributed to the scrotal nettle sting of Weeknotes 24. Making my new trousers (Weeknotes 22) the offical front-outdoor trousers.

Only, everything that goes front-outside needs to be washed when it comes back into the house, and the new jeans are fancy enough that you're not supposed to wash them for six months. Meaning my outdoor trousers are decidedly very much indoor trousers, where I'm wearing them as much as possible because they need to be "broken in" (see the previous link).

Meanwhile, I've had to order two pairs of outdoor (black tactical) trousers, in preparation for heading back to the art studio, one to wear while the other is being washed, alternating back and forth.

Annoyingly due to stock issues, one is the right length but slightly wrong on the waist, while the other is right on the waist but too long on the leg.

I feel like I write far too much about trousers for someone who isn't especially interested in them.

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