"It's Sunday, you sod!" my flatmate grey wolf protested.
"So what?"
"Are you working?"
"I've got a day off. Just the one."
"Why on earth wake me up, then? Want a hand with more 'Lotus' or what?"
"Not today, thanks."
grey wolf's taken to to doing most of the talking when the Kid's not around, before she started chatting to her friends instead and usually tells me to go away except for meals.
"Going to the Canteen later?" he asked, once he'd seen what a sunny morning it was. "Just look at the weather, I can't believe it."
"Doubt it. It's Sam's Sunday off, so I'll keep season's greetings and that for Baudier and the others until next weekend. I've too many 'phone calls to make."
"You're done with Diktats?"
"Yup."
"Good. Spontaneity Rules OK. It's high time you started a year with a headful of that."
"Isn't that a Diktat?"
"Not when it's what everybody wants. I presume you've finished hacking them."
"Who?"
"People, idiot. By the way, why's my name in italics? There's nothing sideways about me."
"I can't put you in inverted commas and if I use caps people might start mixing you up with me."
"I see. Here's an idea, if you're through cleaning up your act. It's my turn. You've put the X-Files in order, so why should I be expected to live in filth? It's not fair. You know I'm too heavy to get out much. I have a hard enough time talking to the mice, they're so damned dirty as well."
He had a point.
When the sun comes out in winter, the pigeons are happy and I could see what a state he was in. Halogen lamps only light up some of the grime, sun days have to be housecleaning ones.
"Fine. What's the deal?"
"Give me a hand and I'll give you a hand. And get out the booze."
"Haven't got any."
"There's a bottle in the bathroom, alcool à 90°. If you give me plenty of that, first I'll help you do last month's sums, even last year's accounts, by lunchtime. You can't put it off any longer."
"You've got a deal. Maybe that's why I got up so early. If we're finished by noon, I'll --"
"You'll shut up. Being spontaneous means no 'ifs' and 'buts'."
Then he let me have it: "You know what really bugs me? If you're being a drag about how you got sorted out, Mr Heart-on-Sleeve, maybe you hope people might feel lucky you took out the worst on me. Me! You've hacked me to pieces so often I help you practice "great dialogue" for 'Lotus'. Now you can see it, look at the mess on my keyboard. I'm not the colour I used to be either."
"I'm sorry."
"So you should be. At work, you never treat a Factory keyboard like mine but, dammit, that stuff needs Windows just to work. You say I'm a Rolls-Royce and expect me to face the daily grind with less respect for me than you show a common or garden hybrid helpmate!"
"That's mean. Your insides are fine and fast. I turn your keyboard upside-down and thump out the crumbs, and I don't spill my lunch over it."
"Only because your keyboard at work works better if you grease it with yoghurt and drop bits of red fruit tart on it. It's a miracle the techies have let you keep it so long."
"All right, all right. Give me a hand with the bank stuff then I'll unplug all your bits and clean you up. What colour do you want to be?"
"The one I was born with. Some of your friends, like the Eagle, haven't got a favourite one. I don't waste my time and circuits on silly questions like that either, so you'd better take me as I come and look after it."
A deal's a deal.
grey wolf got cleaner living conditions once he'd told me the bank's happy and has sums which agree with ours. The bank manager pretends to prefer black to red, though he takes lots more money if it's red and says it's a matter of interest. The sun made me scrub the rest of the mess and make the most of a vacuum.
I hereby certify that 2004 is deceased under this leaking roof.
The flowers look great. I'm proud to have the liveliest and most colourful window-boxes in sight apart from someone else's, probably because we listen to Olya the florist rather than pay the slightest heed to the calendar and instructions on the back of their bottle of food.
"What next?" I asked grey wolf.
"Stop boring people with good humour," he said. "When was the last time we took a look round the blogosphere to see what everyone else is doing?"
"Oh heavens! At least a couple of weeks ago."
"More like a month. So I'll show you after you've been out in the sun for a while. If we spot any fun, we'll pass it on. If anyone's going to notice you're back, you'd better share their stuff too."
"Right. Thanks."
"For what?"
"The dialogue practice."
"Forget it. It's not much cop anyway. What you and 'Lotus' need is out where everybody else lives, remember."
"See you around then. Any plans?"
"I'm going straight back to sleep and if you wake me up to write about this, I won't let you do any more blogging without hyperlinks. TTFN."
"Must you?"
"Just to say thanks. Joe's on about Bubble Wrap."
"Makes a change from women, doesn't it?"
"There's one in it."
"What about Rainer?"
"He's handing out source code."
"Better than Diktats, but keep your own to yourself. Unless what's good for the goose, etc. How about the Squip?"
"She thinks 'a combo platter of disruption (especially after my peaceful, nighttime cold medicine-induced sleep) should really take place any day but Sunday'."
"Me too! Anyone else?"
"There's 212 of them. Unread."
"I know. Here's an Edict: stop quoting me back at myself. I'll get bored."
6:06:27 PM link 
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