Planet Earth: You need to get up and blog today, even though you said you wouldn’t be blogging for some time.
Me: I don’t want to. I want to howl silently into this cushion for at least another month, stare at the pile of books I’m not reading, play Cut the Rope on my phone, scroll through the iPod that has exactly five songs with no bad associations because they’re either by Nina Simone or the sodding Spice Girls and wait until my University course restarts and study in the medical library alone for the rest of my life.
Planet Earth: You promised Daniel that if you posted his How To Make Mobius Strip Love Hearts video on your podcast that you would try to make mobius strip love hearts and post it on your blog.
Me: Bite me.
Planet Earth: You promised.
Me: I’ve promised a lot of things during this lifetime and occasionally I fail to live up to my own expectations, ethical standards and dreams – which is why I have an iPod with songs that are eroding my ability to develop synaptic plasticity, an aspiration to grow a beard and plait it into my toe hairs and strum it like a harp… and a mission to find an entirely new planet to screw up with my presence.
Planet Earth: NASA plans to drop nearly $310 million from the budget for its Planetary Science division in 2013, a 20 percent cut that affects future missions to Mars, lunar science, and the study of the outer planets. So, good luck with that.
Me: Fine. Whatever:
Planet Earth: That’s not exactly trying very hard.
Me: That was hard enough. And you should be grateful; I can now use what’s left of that effort to compost the herb garden.
Planet Earth: Going outside during the daytime. That’s pretty radical coming from you these days, pale-blue-person.
Me: Stay tuned for another month – when I might actually develop a sense of perspective, a desire to socialise and some gratitude for the mere existence of small comforts like origami paper.
Planet Earth: …You’re… going to hold a press conference about building a lunar mission out of paper?
Me: Yes. Because if Nina Simone songs exist, there might be some hope for a future in this galaxy, somehow. Or at least something that amuses me about the soundtrack for that irritating last episode of Sherlock Holmes Series Two.
Planet Earth: Oh shut up and plait your beard into your toe hairs already.