|A dislocated moose|
Hurrah! The elk is up!
And by "elk" I obviously mean moose, and by "elk is up" I'm obviously referring to the poor dead dislocated moose head that Basil Fawlty had so much difficulty fixing to the wall of his hotel.
And, outside of North America and Torquay, a moose is obviously an elk. Obviously.
And by dragging this poor dead dislocated moose/elk into the mire here I am obviously suggesting that my log in a bog, which is finally up and running after a series of Basilesque mishaps, is some kind of poor dead dislocated moose...
Equally obviously, getting a blog up and running is the most exciting thing happening in this woman's world, though even that wasn't so much exciting as miraculous. Deciding on the background alone took three weeks; figuring out how to apply it took another three, only to be met with deep derision from the 19-year-old who said, and I quote:
"So you're happy that your blog looks like three million other blogs on the internet?"
Happy? No. Who said anything about happy? No need to mention the H-word around here.
Obviously this miraculous, common-as-mud log in a bog that I am far from happy about, is a work in progress - rather like happiness.
Still waiting for rain...