Aqueduct

It's an emotional day.

All over the world, people have experienced emotions. It's a broad spectrum, from the despair at seeing a loved-one convicted of fraud, to the minor joy at seeing a loud child thrown into a cement mixer.

Emotion is everywhere, but you can't see it from space. It's strange that something so negligible - in a small enough quantity to fit inside seven billion skull-sized containers - has such a huge impact on the planet.

Forests are cut down because logging companies are too proud to ask beavers for help. Oceans are poisoned because large corporations are jealous of the krill. We put a man on the moon because we were giddy. We put a flag on the moon because we were hungry.

Emotion is something unquantifiable (unless you use the much-discredited Chucklometer). It doesn't exist anywhere but between our ears, or between our bindi and bald-patch, depending of cranial orientation.

It's a wild beast - untameable, untenable, ineffable, intransigent - but we wouldn't have it any other way. Without the cheers and the tears, the yearning and the churning, the guffaw and the shifty-eyed second guess, what would we be? Robots. Just robots.

And as cool as that might initially sound, a laser gun arm is no substitute for the warm feeling of happiness that comes whenever you see a nice big kitchen.

***

The front of my right thigh is wet. I'm not particularly emotional about it, but it's slightly uncomfortable.

It might be because I've done the washing up. I might have leaned against a wet sink-edge with my right thigh. I'm wearing jeans. That doesn't have any bearing on the situation, I just wanted to reassure you.

I'd prefer my discomfort to be symmetrical.

Up to a point.

I'd rather lose one leg than half of both. I'd rather be stung by a scorpion on one buttock rather than both.

But I'd like to have both thighs moist simultaneously. At least I'd know where I stood. (By the sink)

I could artificially moisten the front of my left thigh, but I'd have to be very careful. Heraclitus famously said: "You could not step twice into the same river; for other waters are ever flowing on to you".

By the same token, I'm sure he would say: "You cannot moisten your left thigh in exactly the same way as your right thigh has been moistened; for other waters are ever trickling all crazy and shit".

I might over-moisten the left. Then I'd have to even it out with the right.

Then, before I knew it, I'd be standing waist-deep in an inlet of some sort.

I think I'm just going to have to live with a moist right thigh.

Having said that, I think it might have already dried itself as I've been writing this.

My fears have been all for nought.

But I think we've all learned something important about my legs.

***

Whenever I get asked if I want to update some software, I click 'Remind me later'. Then, when I'm reminded, I click 'Remind me in the past'.

It's a procrastination loop. I think it might revolutionise the way people don't do things.

I'd put together a detailed proposal, but all my software is woefully obsolete.

***

I think I'd live a more interesting life if I looked like this:

My hair might look this white when I'm older, but to complete the look I'd need contact lenses and some kind of skin dye.

The end of my nose looks strangely dark. I think it might be negative schnozz-shine.

I'm going to use this as my passport photo.

***

I was wondering if I should finish this post and watch the football.

Lucy asked "Does it feel like it's finished?"

I said "Maybe".

She said "Well, you've got to trust your instincts".

My instincts were to transcribe that exchange.

My instincts are idiots.

Instidiots.

***

Let's draw a line under this.

And over it. And on either side.

Then draw a roof on it.

Congratulations!

YOU ARE NOW AN ARCHITECT.