That. Thingy. Wossname. You know. I'm not looking for it.
Still up for a chat however. No man is an island and all that. Shame, because then a person with dissociative personality disorder would in effect become an archipelago... We could all point and go "Woah" like Keanu Reaves in pretty much all of his films. Only convincingly.
I nerd professionally, and cart dogs round for charities and make things out of carbon fibre in my spare time. So I can eat cake at the drop of a hat (sometimes the slight tilting of a hat is sufficient, especially if it's cheesecake) I run. Slowly. A long term aim is to get fit enough to run (slowly, natch!) up a mountain. I'm a fair way off...
I'm currently flirting with beard ownership. The good bit (it obscures part of my face) is somewhat outweighed by the fact that the thing obscuring my face looks like a pair of badgers fighting. Well - doing something beginning with F anyway.
Oh - and I'm not bad at poached eggs.
Or something else essentially futile but hopefully fun.
Sometimes I stay in, watch educational programmes on BBC4 (which is basically Radio 4 for people with eyes) and feed the dog wine gums. They make her trip a tiny bit, which we both find highly entertaining.
The world turns, the sun rises and sets, the constellations whirl past unfeeling and uncaring and virtually unchanging.
Why? Because they are not aware.
And I won't be either, unless you collapse the probability waveform, freeze chaos into a discernable pattern, take a peek at the hypothetical moggy in the box (who will NOT be happy) by messaging me.
Or not, obviously.