proverbial good news and bad news:
I don't have to be at the badestrand (beach) for this week and maaaaybe for next week (if I can swing it), which is good, but relinquishing my control of the badestrand is difficult, especially when things aren't running efficiently but you don't want to say "well...I did it this way..." even though that way is better because that's not very polite nor condusive to happy relations.
8 year olds with power tools. oooh, man.
child: "why can't I use the saw?" (10 inch circular saw, that is)
me: "*cringe*....because I'm mean."
child: "oh. Why can't I use the drill on my own?"
me: "see previous statement."
child: *blink* "...what?"
I can't remember if I talked about my new fish or not. I got another fish because I fell in love with him and his coloring; a more typical goldfish body than ovid's (I think he was a fantail or an oranda) that was bright orange with a black dorsal stripe from his forehead to the tips of his caudal fin. I brought him home two weeks ago and named him Cicero, because he was sort of cranky and flourishy when he swam.
Cicero has succumbed to the triumvirate. he was fine, and then he was sitting on the bottom being very inactive. my book said he was either going to be fine because he just had indigestion or he was going to die of some obscure disease. I was hoping for the former, but...sånn er livet. at least he gets to stay at camp now.
my secret pal rocks. she sent me yarn and coffee and chocolate, which as far as I'm concerned are the fundamental building blocks of life. forget carbon and oxygen and all that jazz. the temptation to not finish the Dr Who behemoth (7.5 feet now!) is rising almost faster than I can beat it back; especially with fun new yarn to play with and weaving stuff that is sitting in a box calling to me and that I'm only holding back because I never have time to set it up. it always comes down to sleep or setup. sleep or setup. sleep pretty much always wins because sleep is...sleep. and speaking of which...that's where I'm headed.