(diaryland) August 28, 2001 - 9:44 a.m.

Yesterday, for work, we drove for an hour into the country and then we stopped somewhere. There were houses and fences there. We took photographs of the rubbish bins there, then we came back and had lunch. It was fun, but cold. I still don't understand why we had to drive into the country to look at the rubbish bins. They were pretty darn normal.

It was good because I didn't have to pretend to do work by writing diary entries on the computer like it's the most important thing ever. Kind of like what I'm doing today, really. Whenever I write a diary entry, Rosa always says, "Wow, Clare! Whatever it is you're working on, you are working on it really hard!" And it's true.

So yesterday I worked really hard on looking at rubbish bins and mentioning how fucking cold I was. It felt different and nice.