Back-y, sort of

It is quite cruel, really, to give a Net-starved girl a fleeting glimpse of her much-longed-for Paradise of (all)sorts, only to tether her at its gates. Broadband is beauteous and bountiful, or is supposed to be – I briefly rejoiced at my reconnection to what sometimes feels more real than the “real world” on Saturday, only to find that I couldn’t log on to anything, not e-mail, or MSN; all I could do was flit in silence through chattering, crowded columns, pools of words, sweet-thick like water when you’re really, really thirsty.

But it’s back now, and we shall say no more because *hushed whisper* it may sulk.

On a smaller, more personally petulant note – Boyfriend will not let me paint all the furniture orange. Black depresses me, but it is apparently “practical” and doesn’t “clash”, and of course that makes it fine.

I shall (have, in fact, already begun to) sulk.