My whole day, in halfs

This morning, I dragged myself out of bed at half-past the hour, of half-past the half-past the hour. I may only have been half awake, but didn't realise it as I was half asleep at the time. (Or should that be the other way around?) I poured myself half a bowl of rice bubbles before the packet ran empty, and then made half a cup out of the coffee I had left. Later, I stumbled into the bus on High Street at half past eleven and got off at Coburg, where I met my ex-flatmate.

I stumbled down the old hallway and scrutinised my bookshelf, which was either half fallen apart, or half put back together, depending on which way you looked at it (that is, the wrong way, or the worse way.) Then we went into the kitchen, and had a look at the bills. We did it this way: we halved the price of the bills, and then on some parts of these bills, we halved it again, and kept on halving it until we came up with a price that looked wrong. Then I paid them.

In the evening, I logged on to the computer and read Halfway to Hotzeplotz and Halfhearted Hack and considered whether this was a glass half empty or a glass half full kind of day. Whichever half it was, it was probably the wrong half. And that ain't half bad.