So. What to tell you?
Lashes reported a day of "looking through microscopes" yesterday (I suspect the Holiday Gulag has subcontracted them out to the nearest cytopathology lab where they are reading smear tests), whilst Fingers made origami frogs, which seems to me to veer dangerously away from the original brief of a full week of sticking stuff. All three of us are vastly cheered by the gorgeous little car I am borrowing for a week. Mmmmmmmmm, car. It's terribly seductive having a car to play with as the rain sets in over Belgiana for the next six months, especially one that's small enough for me not to break its wing mirrors off on the nearest likely stretch of wall. I have been dizzily exploiting my new mobility with trips to out of town shopping centres until I get sweaty palmed and panicky at how much budget loo roll, bleach and cheap consumer electronics I have bought and have to put my head between my knees.
I have also "celebrated" the two year anniversary of acquiring the weepette. Look, this is him on the day we brought him home:
This gives a good idea of how small he was compared to that also very small child (who, in comparison to the weepette doesn't seem vastly changed).
This is also amusing, from a couple of weeks later, the CFO made it for him out of an old jumper sleeve:
Now look at him yesterday, practising his very best pleading look whilst begging for, well, anything really. I think it was a mushroom here.
(What's that? My floor looks strangely like the floors in the Holiday Gulag For Obedient Children? Yes it does. it is dirty, half the lights have been fucked over by the Assassin and no longer work, and I cannot be arsed right now).
30% bat, 30% pathetic, 30% random electrical connections in his empty skull. I actually think he has more dignity in the one where he's trussed up in the jumper sleeve. I probably had more dignity two years ago too though, so who am I to pass judgment.
I am particularly amused by the comments on that 2 year old post. Firstly, there are a great deal of people who refer to their own pets as in some way spawned by Beelzebub, which delights me, and many more that say I am "brave", which we all know means "insane". Secondly, I loved this from Grit, which shows great prescience:
"You have an animal in the house and look at it already. it is lolling around doing exactly what it wants while you fetch biscuits and carry blankets. soon you will be going ooochycoo at it, leaving the heating on, buying it squeaky presents and worrying how to amuse it in moving vehicles. This is not sweet. This is evil dressed as dog".
This happy event has motivated me to generate my first video. Its only merit is that it is very short. You also get a brief impression of the prevailing squalor, which is nice if you want to feel good about your housekeeping.
I won't make more animal videos, I promise.
In other news (I use that term exceptionally loosely), I had a brief flirtation with trying to tell myself I liked porridge until it exploded over the microwave, taking me instantly back to my happy, eating disorder days at university, when I would consider a spoonful of microwaved oats and water adequate nourishment for a day, so I dumped it. My "new year, same old shite you" (thanks Tigerbaps) policy demanded it. Also in line with the "new year, same old shite you", I will not be:
1. Taking up gardening. The best kept secret of adulthood is that gardening is just OUTDOOR HOUSEWORK. It's tidying up, but with a different colour palette. The parameters are the same: whatever you do, however you try to stem the irresistible forces of chaos, they return stronger than before. Say no to outdoor drudgery.
2. Drinking less. How can that possibly help? I have ten dry years to compensate for! I have to keep drinking or B will drug me and steal my liver, he's already threatened to.
3. Walking more. I can feel that my knee of death is coming back, after a year of respite thanks to the Dr Kevorkian of knees and his magical lubricating injections (bonjour, keyword searching pervs). I have got one of those ball throwing spoons and am refusing to walk further than the entrance to the park.
What are you not doing to ensure you preserve the old, shite you?