Subduction

That’s when the earth’s tec­tonic plates slide under the crust in a sort of large scale recy­cling, and which is why the sea doesn’t get saltier. Or some­thing. I read this in Bill Bryson’s A Short His­tory of Nearly Every­thing. I am most likely wrong. I’m just haz­ard­ing a guess where my brain cells, in par­tic­u­lar, those that are respon­si­ble for mem­ory, logic and gen­er­ally get­ting a grip on real­ity, went.

I can’t remem­ber most of what I’ve read from that book, though I’m thor­oughly enjoy­ing it each time I pick it up. I sup­pose that means I could re-read it from time to time and still enjoy it. Good thing I bought the hardcover.

The blun­ders I’ve made at work this month are kick­ing me in the arse every­day, and it would’ve been worse if not for the fact I have busi­ness part­ners with a sem­blance of a sense of humour. I’m still wait­ing for the day they give up and say ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?!’, though.

Tomor­row (or rather, this) morn­ing, the elec­tri­cian comes to my house to replace the power switch board that has served our house­hold for the last 22 years, but has recently had more out­ages than a Malaysian state. There’ll be no power for the whole day, he reck­ons. No power. No air­con. No tele­vi­sion. No fridge. No inter­net. How like that?

The power bet­ter come back on by the time I’m home. Else I might have to go out all of Sat­ur­day night! Catch a movie or some­thing. Wouldn’t that be radical?