Hello again iiwiiers
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Scientists Pinpoint The 'Edge Of Space' where the edge of space is! Amazing! The universe is so vast, and now we can hold its measure in our ken! The edge of space is... one hundred and eighteen kilometres above the Earth! Eh? What? No way! It's bigger than that! ...ohhh! That edge! Pah! What a rip-off! Give me my money back, University of Calgary! The worst Doctor Who ever wasn't as disappointing as you! Yes, it's Doctor Who tonight, but I'm not going to talk about that now. Except, we're getting it fifteen minutes later in Scotland! Thanks a lot, BBC! But I'll cope. Anyway, if you think about it what they're talking about isn't even the edge of space in any way. It's the edge of the Earth's atmosphere maybe, but not the edge of space. If that's the edge of space then every one of you lives at the edge of town, as that's where your house meets the outside. And my heart is at the edge of my body.
And It Is What It Is is definitely edgy.
Today's Mr. Men colours are blue, blue, yellow, red, yellow, yellow, orange, blue, orange, yellow. I still think there's no intentional pattern although it's starting to look, with only six proper ones left, that blue and yellow are very much going to be dominating the whole thing.
I forgot to mention yesterday, my exhausting adventures the day before. They are rather dull, but perhaps illuminating. I went to the post office to get some more gas credit on my gas card. I had a heavy rucksack on my back and a bag in my hand full of goods from Tossco and The Co-op. The queue was massive but I wasn't too bothered as the queue tends to move fairly quickly in there. This time, however, it wasn't moving so quickly. They had the normal number of tellers on but a lot of them were occupied with people conducting strange transactions that were taking a hell of a long time, maybe more than ten minutes. What can you do in a post office that takes so long? Apart from queueing, I mean. My shoulder wasn't happy and although the bag wasn't that heavy it took its toll on my hand and I had to switch. Eventually I got to the counter and tried to do my business, but was confounded by some archaic shenanigans. Apparently getting gas credit on my gas card is a cash-only transaction! Yes, I know! In 2009! Even better, they have machines at the counter saying 'get money out of your bank account here' but they only cover a stupid limited range of banks, including some rather obscure ones, but not my big popular one. So I went outside, to the proper Post Office ATM, where you can get money out from any bank, got some money out and went back in to wait in my exhausted state in the long slow queue to get some gas credit on my gas card. I didn't really need to get it then, with my tired legs and the weight on my back, but I did, as in situations of bureaucratic adversity I find the pointless bloody-minded route compelling. Today I had a nice shorter shopping walk and my legs coped. I haven't had cramp at any point although after all the palaver I felt the threat of it.
that's all from me for now
see you around
Bleak Chocolate Of The Day: Cadbury's Strollers