Well today was pleasant day.

I arrived at Loftus at 11:48, my train was meant to get in at 11:28 but I think it was running late judging by the time. I'm quite good at things like telling the time.

I bought my self some breakfast from "Ma and Pa Crazy's Takeaway" (chips, two scallops and a Coke) and walked college to the lovely tunes of Bruce.

Once at college I had my general working bee feeling of inadequacy. All the jobs make me feel like I need to be manly and skilled with tools, or feminine and skilled with cleaning things. I know that's a sexist generalisation, but I wouldn't feel capable of fulfilling any task that either manly or feminine skill. I'm have no manual skills. I've got low muscle tone, that's what Mum reckons.

Anyway, I managed to stand around at the top of the driveway and watch as three of Youthworks lovely ladies dismantled letter box. And then I found myself a job near the mulcher. That was fun. My job was to make big branches smaller. This required me to do some sawing. So I spent almost two hours sawing my little heart out. I sawed big branches, I sawed twigs. I sawed everything in between. Every now and again, in a fit of strength and manhood I would snap a branch in half or something. I'd find big branch in the pile of what once used to be a few trees, drag them out like, and then cut em up. It was great.

I told Mitch Tinku's story. That was nice, standing talking to Mitch. He's a good man.

After lunch the mulcher broke so I stood around the mulcher looking like I knew something and making un-helpful comments.

I did some weeding later on and explored the poo pump.

Then Gus and I traveled home (he's sleeping over tomorrow night, yay slumber party).

I slept all the way from Central to Pennant Hills. Beautiful.

At Community dinner we had discussion about favourite films and a heated debate about whether Moulin Rouge! was an American or Australian film (IMDB lists it as both). I think it's still American, but I'm happy with saying it's both.

On the way home Howie and I discussed who it was that is sending me secret love letters at college. He's not telling me anything. It's quite infuriating. I'm not really all that concerned about it except when I'm around Howie because he know's what's going on but he won't tell me. He said I should figure it out, but from the notes I can hardly tell anything. I'm not a very good detective. Anyway, it's all a little perplexing for me. I can't figure out why it's happening. But hey, I'm sure it'll make a good story, if nothing else. And if you're reading this, mystery letter writer: "Hello, feel free to let me in on the secret anytime".