For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm sitting in front of the greater mac (ahem, Greater Mac) rather than using the iPad. It feels a little strange. I've been behind on my facebook games and the number of game requests from friends was starting to scare me. I thought I should do something about that.
Today's plan, aside from fitting in some sleep, is the deathless boredom of housework. And posting some book mooches. I can foresee a great deal of popularity for me here - I post overseas. Whoopee! I only hope, since a couple of the books on my wishlist were only ever published in the US, that I find a like-minded moocher.
Husbandly took off this morning with a burgeoning lurgy - yes, he scored it too. Bummer, dude. Small lad took off with a hand-drawn life cycle of a chicken and a thirty-second speech. Life cycle is a small misnomer - it's more an urn-shaped birth-to-death sort of thing. No chicken-or-the-egg conundrums for my son, no sir. The egg hatches, the chicken lives and that's all he wrote.
Tonight I have the joys of working and reorganising the stock fridge, because moving bags of blood from one place to another is a passion of mine. I was going to launch into a sarcastic paean of praise, but I just can't be bothered.
It stems from a chat with a near stranger, who asked if I liked the trots (as in harness racing, not diarrhea); when I said not really, know nothing about it to be honest, he replied with "It's a passion of mine" and then bored me rigid about it for the next five minutes. Then he asked about something else - what it was is lost in the tedium brain-death, sorry - and then said "Another passion of mine" and went on again. I know very clever people are very involved with their interests, but that doesn't mean I need the OCD discussion from a near stranger. Just go away.
Which makes me laugh (at myself), because if there's one thing I have, it's a gob. I can go on for days if you let me - but generally if I see the foot shuffle start I try to break off and set you free, or steer the conversation into something you might like.
Not that I have very many conversations these days. I work alone.
The Lego castle was a great success, the book shopping less so. Although I did find a choose-your-own-adventure clone for small lad. Now I have to wrestle him into reading it. We also had beverages - real coffee for me and hot chocolate for small lad. It's a hard life.
It's 9:23 in the neighbourhood and those sheets aren't going to change themselves. Let me find my motivation and I'll be right with that.
Similar to a mother's womb? Last time I checked my uterus was not a hard plastic shell, nifty bottom parts or not. And what, we should put the baby back now? What for? You can't play with your rubber ducks and plastic boats and squirty empty shampoo bottles in a bucket! And really, I mean really, even upmarket washing a baby in a bucket is still washing a baby in a bucket. More risk of throwing he or she out with the bathwater, too.
