Today I got my car. I was too busy to consider it more than an inconvenience that interrupted a meeting and caused me to have to pack up the contents of the car I'd borrowed and then have to throw those contents into the new car. It's a new car, but it's also the same sort of car that I was borrowing. This one's done 200 miles in its entire life. The other had 12000 miles. So that's something, I suppose.

I would have driven it home quickly, but my licence is in enough trouble. It would have been some sort of karmic balance to find my court summons on the mat when I got back, but this didn't happen. No news as yet. Now I have a car, though, surely the gods will send the driving ban. That's how life can work sometimes. You get some sort of good thing and then you have to learn how good it was by losing it.

Yeah. That is how life can be sometimes.

I had had a good reading experience last night. I finished Danny Wallace's "Yes Man", which is apparently being made into a film. It's a book about just going for opportunities, whether you think they're wise or not. Some excellent moments and some moments which evoked memories and wishes of my own, some of which were bittersweet. Can I follow Danny's example and just say yes to everything? NO. I can't. But then perhaps I say yes to as much as I possibly can, and seldom use fear to prevent me trying something...

...but then I'm too busy and too driving licence afeared to be able to enjoy the first car I've ever driven that's brand spanking new. At least, the first car that I've ever got to call "mine" that is... even though it belongs to the company whose work ethic will prevent me from seeing enough daylight to use it much.

Conversely, I did escape the office last night during daylight. I got home and started work on my exterior again. I managed to scrape some paint off, and then some woman started a conversation with me. She asked some "dating questions", though I suspect that was coincidence. She was clearly just taking an interest, and I didn't detect flirting in the air. Given that she was of a different generation to me, and given that I didn't like the look of her, it matters not either way. She asked whether I lived in the house, and whether it was alone. She asked my name. She asked what I was doing.

Eventually I bid her farewell and returned to my scraping. She didn't leave. I wished her a good evening and tried again. I tried "well... must get on" and then eventually ignored her presence as I scraped some more. She left of her own free will, though, in an act of friendliness, I did say she could maybe see how far I've got on her return... as though it was her leaving that became a challenge to spur me on... and it sort of did.

After the daylight failed me, I went inside to do some wood panel removal and wallpaper scraping. The wood panel removing turned out to reveal a whole section of alcove that was hitherto hidden. More cubic footage of room. The wallpaper scraping went extreme as I removed huge sections of rotten plaster. The bare chimney breast (back to the brick) is a testament to "extreme wallpaper removal".

After I'd got so dusty that I couldn't breathe, I considered food. I considered that I wanted a curry. I took myself over, on foot, to the good curry house. I ordered poppadoms. I ordered beers. I ordered a main course. I forgot my diet (to a point - I rationed some things). I read the next book on my reading list as I ate ("The Cement Garden", by Ian McEwan). At the end of the meal, my two beers were followed by a coffee and then I paid. The waiter, after I paid, offered me a "combemendry bhundi". I said I didn't know what that meant. He repeated it "Combimendery brhundi". I was still clueless. "Complimentary bhundi". I said I still wasn't sure what he was offering. He decided to just bring it. A complimentary brandy. It sat on a stand with a tea light under it. I let it warm and drank it.

Then I walked myself home.

I realised afterwards that I'd just taken myself out on a date. Not only that, but I totally ignored myself and had my head in a book all night. Then I walked myself home and didn't even say goodnight or get a goodnight kiss. Nothing.

I've become very rude and self absorbed.