Day 5 - No, really

This counts, OK? I won't let my days be bound by some dictatorial clock. This is still part of my working day, and so this counts as a post on Day 5. I blame Paramount Comedy for stealing away my evening. Let this be a lesson to me: never too early to blog.

So, today, I started gluing my Ork models onto their bases. So far: 8 models done. Now just the arms, heads, undercoats, and paints. Apply to many other models, and an army is formed, ready to hack and slash their way to a fictional victory.
Perhaps I could create a new Grey Clan of Orks, so I don't have to paint them? They'd still stare accusingly at me with their plastic eyes. "Grant us life!" they cry, but I must be strong. Through weakness lies madness, and then it's hard to hold down a steady job.

Also today, me and Julia drove to the Royal Mail Parcel Depot on Papyrus Road {{Emergency announcement: The Playbus TV theme just started playing on my laptop. Beautiful.}} to collect parcels for her, my mother and my stepfather. None for me, sadly (donations always welcome).

Julia would here expect some embellished tale of our journey to the Parcel Depot, full of trials, dragons and other hilariously dangerous elements. I simply refuse to indulge her, however. The truth will stand, however dragon-free it may be.

We drove there, uneventfully. There was a good CD in the car, and the roads were reasonably busy, but not inconveniently so. The sky was such an unmemorable shade I don't even remember it, and no scrapes or shindigs were suffered by anyone. A moderately convenient parking space was found, and after a brief but manageable queue, we collected the parcels, hassle free. We drove back to Julia's, again uneventfully, and had tea there.
And throughout, the dragon had slept quietly in my back seat, alright? I will not make stuff up simply to jazz things up. My life is full of jazz already; it's a constant midnight show.

Today's reading: Problems in Analytic Number Theory, again. I've started working through them properly now, mostly while watching the mentioned Paramount Comedy. No big problems so far (though some of my reasoning is a little sketchy, I admit). I also haven't used one of the conditions in the statement of a theorem within my proof of it, which is always a bad sign. Maybe something will occur to me later.

Today's trivia: Poseidon made Pasiphae, wife of Minos, fall in love with a bull. She got an architect to build her a wooden model of one, so she could copulate with it. The result: the Minotaur.
That's the disgusting part of the legend.