Week 210: orthodoxy of bed-making
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Happy UTC+1. Of course the clocksā springing has broken some bus data things, which arenāt my fault but might be my problem. Itās probably for the same sort of reason that the laser display boards here have been showing ārefer to timetablesā or āwelcome to [name of stop]ā all day. Well I havenāt updated the oven clock yet, so I canāt claim any moral high ground.
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Troubled by reports of website slowness again, pages taking 20 minutes to load? And surely thereād be even more reports if the slowness didnāt extend to the contact page. But itās pretty fast for me, so I donāt know, I need to see a screenshot of someoneās developer toolsā network tab. The programmatic advertising crap is huger than ever these days, a large surface area, so thereās a chance itās something in that. Years ago, my workplaceās internet connection ceased connecting to a popular CDN, which was interesting; in this case, it seems to affect customers of BT and EE, so Iāve ordered a SIM card to test. (Theyāve some attractive discounts, attractive until they diabolically increase prices above inflation at the end of the month.)
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An headline in the worst newspaper, āIāve saved hundreds by never washing my bed sheetsā. Read on, and actually the titular āIā still washes their bed sheets (on a cold cycle) once a month, infinity times more than never ā just when you thought these callow journalists couldnāt stoop any lower. (Apparently theyāve taken some measures to keep the sheets fresh between washes: no dogs or food or dirty workclothes in bed, etc.)
By the way, I challenge the orthodoxy of bed-making, I think itās important to let the sheets ābreatheā during the day, because āsunlight is the best disinfectantā isnāt only a metaphor for the importance of transparency and accountability in an organisation, the ultraviolets kill bacteria and stuff. But the problem is it sounds like an excuse for being lazy and slovenly, and Iāll grudgingly admit that maybe traditional bed-making stops dust mites getting in the sheets in the first place.
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Up to Londonās glittering Royal Albert Hall, to see Wet Leg (you probably call them āthe wet legsā) + special guests Honeyglaze (the worst thing to do to carrots) and CMAT (marvellous). My preferred trousers hadnāt dried completely after coming out the wash, so that was nearly maybe ironic, but I wore some different trousers instead, which by the way are so loose and comfortable that sometimes itās like not wearing any trousers at all.
Liked the RAH, easily one of my top 10 halls. Raced against time to catch the last train back down, and somehow won, sat panting behind a group of Jim Jeffries fans just as one of them was explaining end-to-end encryption.