“That’s logistics!” *BANGBANGBANGBANG* “Aieeee!” *BANGBANGBANG* “Stop! Stop! She’s already dead!” *BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG*… ahem

I dislike trying to arrange things, as it never seems to end well. Actually, that’s a lie – I’ve not ever had any monumental cock ups (so far), but I do still dislike the whole ‘arrangement’ thing. Which is why half-looking to help sort out our travel/stay in Belgium/Nederlander is seeing the beginnings of me getting stressed out. Even though I haven’t actually done anything and it’s a while until we actually go.

Why must we be forced to actually arrange things? Why can’t we just sit around in our pants, swearing blindly at the TV as flecks of dried spittle fall, almost gracefully, into the piles of our own detritus that surrounds our morbidly obese, stinking carcasses? Why do I have to traipse through Hostel World looking for somewhere I think we won’t get bummed to death (unless we* absolutely want to)? Why can’t I just ignore everything and have it all work out okay?

Actually, thinking about it, I probably can. And now I think about it more, I actually arrange a fair few things when it comes to getting out and about in the world. Not the big things, mind, just the whole ‘getting there and not being bummed to death on the way’ angle. Like catching buses. I can do that.

This means I am brilliant at arranging things. I should be Captain Logistics, or something. They should put me on a shit advert where an astonishingly contrived song plays in the background about how logistics are both a) great, and b) anything, at all, worth singing about ever.

Really – there’s a fucking advert with a song about logistics on it. Fuck this world – it’s broken. I want out.

*Jack.

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