How did I manage to get blue ink everywhere? I started off the day by sitting at my blasted computer with the determination of a Tiger, four notebooks at my side, water bottle, travel thermal mug, and an innocent-looking blue ink pen. On my head was my trademark pale pink fleece hat with the small fleece pom-pom to hold my scraggly, shaggy hair off my face. I'm prone to leave the cap off of pens because the combined weight of pen + cap is just a little too weighty for my fragile, lotus blossom wrists. But I recognize this danger and usually, I will avoid the loose pen who wanders around without any direction or motivation, as though it were a high school student with no after school commitments. Not today. Today was the day where my hat and the pen got together for some quality time to suck the ink out of the pen in sufficient quantities to give me continuous hours of fun. I had fun when I put my hat back on. I had fun when my hand touched that particular saturated portion of the hat. The hat had fun with my face. Fun was had all around. Upon discovery, I washed and scrubbed like Lady Macbeth, howling at the anguish and guilt of that damned spot on my lovely hat. It has sentimental value.
I bet you really want to know how my paper went. You are prolly thinking: "How does Italy's Law 55/2010 compare with Switzerland's Swiss Made Ordinance which has been around since 1971 and appears to effectively protect the mark (counterfeiting aside)." I would have to say, Silly rabbit, that's still much too broad of a topic to write about! So I spent a lot of time boiling the parameters of the issue down to something that can be discussed without a white board, some gum, a box of paperclips, a rubber band, 3 lengths of string and a banana. I've finally come up with "Swiss IP law regarding watches is enforceable because Switzerland has a crazy pro-competition philosophy and the language of the ordinance incorporates standards of quality and manufacturing compliance." Or something. I can't seem to introduce that nugget of competitive philosophy anywhere. But it must be done. I get the creeping sensation that as soon as I rework that sentence to say what I want it to say, it's going to be a marathon typing session into the night. The candle flickering in the window with the crazy witchy cackling? That would be me. All this previous brainstorming for NAUGHT.
At least I made shortbread today. I have this terrible habit of looking through some recipes, combining all the ones that sound good, then substituting with ingredients that I have around. In the end, it's this Frankenstein recipe cobbled together of all delicious parts, excised of complication, waiting to explode into a crumbly pile of confusion. That is an accurate description of my current state of mind. Perplexed. But the shortbread tastes good so far and it's suppose to store for a month without going bad. Tomorrow I'm going to jazz it up by dipping it in dark chocolate. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, I LOVE THE MIXER. I have never seen butter and sugar creamed together so well, so fluffy, so pale. I wanted to spend the rest of the day mixing stuff so I could make appropriate noises of appreciation when it was done.
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