Bits and bobs, or more accurately one bit and one bob

Sitting here, I am able to experience a profound experience. I trod into college through the heady april smog to hand in some stuff, and print out some other stuff. I failed to bring the first object with me, and as such the only logical thing to do is to walk home, pick it up and walk back up here again. On the other hand, I can't be bothered. Does the extra forty minutes of walking outweigh the mild irritation Dr Jason Smith will experience if I hand it in a day late? It's a conflict on an epic scale, I tell you.

In other news, I'm reading The Blank Slate by Steven Pinker, and as such I now feel very intelligent without really being able to tell you much more than I could have before. But that, of course, is just what George Orwell said: the best books are the ones that tell you what you already knew and would have said if you'd been cleverer.

Quoting Orwell. I'm awesome.

Well, I suppose I'm going to walk home and back now. Maybe then I'll have something more intersting to tell you.

this far, but no further