I just ironed a spider into one of my tee-shirts. I didn't mean to, and I'm not at all happy about it - I like spiders, and even if I didn't, being flattened by a gigantic hot metal plate seems a pretty horrid way to go.
Why am I ironing? well right now I'm not, I'm typing, but before that I was ironing because when I get started it always seems a good idea to go on ironing until either my will gives out, or I run out of things to iron (it's invariably the former.) I started ironing because I needed a particular shirt for work tomorow.
Tomorow at work is 'Prize Giving' so I have to get all dressed up - suit, tie, gown, hood... it's a stupid big fuss over nothing really, but I'm incapable of feeling anoyed about it since it marks the end of the accademic year! After tomorow there will be no teenagers in my work place, and it'll stay like that until the end of August! (With a bit of luck by then I'll be working somewhere else.)
... poor old spider.
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