*eats raisins*



*chomp chomp chomp*



*considers meaning of life*



*chomp chomp chomp and the raisins are gone*



*holds out hand hopefully, in case any other magically appear*



*none do*



*considers possibility Joe not noticing his stereo has disappeared*



*assures her blog-readers that she HASN'T stolen it, she is just sick to death of the pounding music at one in the morning*




*so therefore, she is planning*




*sighs and thinks of finer things, finer things that I (or you) will never know*




*like rivers made of chocolate, for example*




*unless you count Johnny Depp and co.*




*gives a little shudder*



*reconsiders, and thinks that choc rivers may be possible, but the Cadbury factory would have to explode*



*imagines it*



*wipes away the drool*



*checks clock*



*bounces experimentally on bed*



*bed springs sqeak in a forlorn way*



*closes Day of the Triffids with a snap*



*publishes Blog post*



*switches off light*



*shuts door*



*leaves*