Mad Scientist's Journal: Day 47

10:52am: woke up to a coldness in the bedroom. Once fully awake, I realized there was an inch of fog on the floor. I backtracked the fog to its room of origin: the kitchen. Apparently, the new software crossed the pipes, and instead of putting water in the pot to poach my eggs, it used liquid nitrogen. The flames that were started to boil the water would have been quickly overcome by the intensity of the LN, as evidence by the shattered remains of the stovetop.

12:32pm: the armored jellyfish are ready for field tests... beginning to regret not breeding them to be larger first, but then the armor would have weighed them down on land, not that they aren't already struggling. "Terror at 2 Feet" doesn't have a nice ring to it: might try crustacean DNA next time.

2:10pm: email -- more applicants washed out of the vetting process. On the bright side, I am getting quite a commission on their eventual employment at various shipping companies and big box stores: carrying parcels at a sloth-like pace is well within their remaining skill sets.

5:49pm: spent some time dictating my memoirs... never too early, I say, especially considering the small but non-zero chance of a memory-impacting event from one of the experiments. How I envy Dumbledore, aside from the whole evil-spell-in-a-ring-slowly-killing-you part.

7:24pm: dinner time. Opted for a nutrient shake, rather than risk yet another rush to the facilities.

7:32pm: I suspect far too nutrients managed to penetrate my villi as 'dinner' passed quickly through my intestines. Perhaps I need to have a chicken coop built... wonder if there is space near the old nuclear 'feeder' plant?

10:43pm: writing the software for a new fleet of drones. I thought it was a good idea to incorporate goose DNA strands into the flight matrix, until half the previous devices flew away in a 'V' formation, never to be seen again, and the other half dunked themselves into the swamp... hope the robo-crocs don't hurt themselves trying to eat them.

1:03am: closing this journal entry. I remain dedicated to my plans of world domination, if only I could again get a properly cooked breakfast. Until my next entry, this is Theodore M. Strandimore, signing off.