That trip wore me out... My legs were curled up on the seat like a bird's, I couldn't sleep properly, and the food was absolutely awful. After connecting flights, changing trains, switching subways, lugging my suitcase, and climbing the stairs, I got home and took a look-
Dust filled the air, as if I'd stepped straight into the Sahara.
I normally used pine cat litter at home, which was clean and dust-free, but needed frequent cleaning. Before every writing session, I'd very diligently go check: had they pooped? Did it need cleaning? Yes? Wonderful, another ten minutes I could spend not writing.
When I went away, I asked someone to come over and look after the cats. I couldn't exactly expect them to come scoop poop three times a day at mealtimes, could I? So I had to use ordinary cat litter. My god, the dust-everything, whatever it had originally been, was now uniformly grayish white. It was as if a sandstorm had hit my place. It no longer qualified to host the Two Sessions.
I vacuumed, mopped, and wiped down the furniture, already half-dead with exhaustion, then discovered a whole load of clothes in the washing machine that I'd washed before leaving... All that time, and I'd never taken them out. Give your imaginations wings and imagine that smell. One lifetime wasn't enough to survive it.
All I did was squat on the floor and dry-heave half my soul out.
I finished all the cleaning, but the smell wouldn't go away. With the smell of cat shit lingering throughout the apartment, I finally managed to make a cup of coffee and sit down (let's see which fucker can't resist saying "cat-shit coffee"). I opened my laptop, and hey, guess what? The screen wouldn't light up.
I kept closing and opening the laptop. Occasionally, it would pick a moment to light up, but when I entered my login password, it went black again, like a shy young girl.
Aaaaaah
Aaaaaaaaah
West Lake's lovely scenery, in the days of June~
With the display not lighting up, how was I typing? Because I also had an external e-ink monitor... The resolution was incredibly low, incredibly blurry. Things like verifying which pictures contained traffic lights to log into an account were definitely out of the question. All I could really do was type, making out which bits were text and which were background.
How blurry was it? If it wasn't in my native language, I'd have a hard time recognizing it.
While I was being a bird on the plane, before I got too tired, I wrote 980 characters. After several hours at home, I was now at 1,020.
Anyway, I'd post this chapter whenever I finished writing it. My legs were trembling whenever I went up or down the stairs, and my muscles had developed wood grain. I had no idea why I was so tired...
(End of chapter)