(diaryland) December 09, 2003 - 11:59 a.m.

I wish I could look at other people's diaries, but, alas, I am using the computer at work. Poo.

The big art gallery in our city has opened up again. It was being renovated.

I went there on the weekend with a small man named Rosemary. It was terribly crowded. Everybody there was wearing some form of 'I went to university for way too long' glasses. I think I was wearing some too.

Anyway, at some point in the three-and-a-half hours it takes to look at everything really briefly except for the scuplture garden, we were looking at a medieval wooden Virgin Mary, and there was a fly sitting on it. It was sitting right on her nose, laughing.

We screamed at the fly to get off the statue. We shouted, "What are you doing? That statue is priceless!" Then I blew on it, but it only ruffled its wings a little bit and stayed put. I didn't want to explode the statue by blowing on it too hard, anyway, because it looked very fragile. It already had billions of wormholes all over it.

So the fly stayed.

Then, when I got home, a fat snail was sitting on the edge of a pot on our porch and laughing. It had just polished off Diane's last coriander seedling.

I hate small creatures who think they're top shit.