I am tired and I have a headache. While I wait for the omelette I ordered for lunch to arrive, I shall peck away at my iPhone key board and see what comes out.
There are Autumn leaves all over campus. Piling in corners and whirling with gusts of cold wind from an icy sky. The colours tell the story of Autumn, but the calendar insists it is Winter.
And it's the calendar's view of the world that wins. Long days sat at a desk with view out the windows from here; the calendar is the only way to mark time under harsh fluorescent lighting.
Sidenote: the way people hold and use their cutlery falls into two camps: the way I do it, and the wrong way.
My rabbits are escape artists. The spend all their time looking for weaknesses in the (generous) perimeter fencing. When they find a weakness they exploit it in their bid for freedom. If they can't find a weakness, they dig. Deep and long and under the ground.
Last night three of them were in the garden having pushed a weakness of the fence until they got out. Their freedom runs them ragged so they're easy to round up but I can't help but wonder why the don't just like living in the home I have built for them.
It's warm and dry and safe and sticked with food. Outside is danger. They are extreme rabbits; bungee adventure rabbits; working together collaborating rabbits.