The One with the Halfhearted Chocolate and the Morally Upright Parakeet.

White chocolate icecream with hot coffee syrup snaking black, sticky trails of awesomeness all over it. I am not really a dark chocolate person anymore, I think. To truly be a dark chocolate person requires just a soupcon more snobbery than I feel capable of at this moment. At the moment, I am not feeling capable of much more than a languid sort of snobbery. I am not feeling capable of much more than a general sort of languidity at all, actually. The comparison I am trying to draw is between a ferociously active 24x7 Queen-Mother sort of snobbery ("WE are ROYALTY. We look like HAW-ses, go to EE-ton and pet our CAW-gis") as opposed to a half-hearted, minor-English-aristocrat brand of snobbery ("I'm sorry dah-ling, we only do snobbery from two to four on Tuesday evenings, could you please go away now so we can bathe our temples in Eau d'Cologne, lie gracefully on our French chaise and have our aristocratic afternoon headache in peace.") . I now subscribe to the latter school of thought. More energy-saving, I find. It is to reason, then, that I enjoy white chocolate better now. Also, I prefer Milkybars to Lindt Blanche Truffles. Thus do the great fall, eh?

White chocolate, incidentally, is a thing after my own languid heart. It is so halfheartedly chocolate that it isn't even chocolate.

Outside, the sky is a sharp, clear blue. The air is cold and crisp. The grass is green. There are puddles everywhere. I spent a significant portion of my morning personally paying my respects to each individual puddle. I am now left with itchy calves and feet, and a pair of boxer shorts resplendent with grass stains and high caste Rajput mud. That is, I think Rajputs are high caste.

Company Law, I think, is beyond my understanding. The professor tends to bandy words like 'debentures' and 'equity' with an ease that is frankly frightening. I had an earnest discussion on the topic this morning with a delightfully green parakeet. While the specifics of his opinion escaped my comprehension, I concluded that he felt strongly on the issue by the explosive manner in which he shed a hundred bright green feathers when I asked him, and followed it up promptly with a rather forceful poop on the local tree branch. Having metaphorically expressed his opinion of insider trading thus, he flew away with silent dignity. I have a new respect for parakeets, those chaps do understatements rather well.

Birds remind me, Hark! I believe I am hearing the soft and distinctive call of that rare and elusive species, the Carpenteris Jodhpurus. I quietly open my door. I see his earthy plumage. I shall slink off and attempt to trap him forthwith, with the aid of my indisputable charm and whiny voice. I have a shelf that lost its battle with gravity six months back, that needs to be restored immediately.

A wooden shelf, I meant.

A wooden bookshelf.

Perverts.

How much I am loving you all. :)

Ta.