Down (brace yourselves):
I am on a three day juice cleanse for Facegoop (we thought it would be funny and people would click on it earning us whole fractions of pennies, fools that we are) and hating it, obviously. Worst elements: furry teeth, beetroot juice, broccoli juice, have lost 30 IQ points I couldn't afford to lose since intellect already burning on lowest imaginable wattage, basically being unable to function, having to cook food for other people (pizza tonight!) and all the other bits. I have got the easy job though (due to the extensive history of eating insanity), M has twelve days of hell to survive and hers comes with added flax oil and supplements and strictures about fruit seasonality. Am I regretting this right now? Yes, yes I am. My dinner is "nut milk" (at least it's not beetroot, I suppose).
Fell over cable and broke laptop screen in a juice addled daze. It's still functioning, but its days are numbered.
Neighbour is on especially poisonous musical form.
Had to go and collect L from an out of town car park at 7 this morning (post clock change, nice touch) at end of his state mandated ski trip. Notice was strident about how important it was to be on time, so I got up at 6:15 and got on the tram and arrived at ten to 7. The bus finally arrived at 9. There's not much to do in a car park in Drogenbos at that time in the morning.
The London Zoo Tiger Cub Cam is finished and I had included it in my round up of baby animal webcams and now I am fruitlessly searching the internet for a replacement. Where are your best baby animals hiding, the Internet? I can only find birds (as you know, I am pro-bird, but I need to cater to a broad church).
L is back, desiccated like a prune and filthy but delighted with the whole thing (and even more delighted with the Swiss Army Knife he has bought himself). He even claims the soirée raclette was "trop bien" and his expression on the photos was not representative, because he was allowed unlimited potatoes and meat (mmmmm potatoes) (mmmmmm meat).
Lovely calm weekend, including trip to a very eccentric bar full of mad old Bretons on Saturday night. We never actually got served amidst the chaos and the ancient jazz musicians and the man in full 19th century riding regalia throwing a ball for his dog. "Oh yes" said the waiter, vaguely. "I think I probably forgot about you", which was at least honest.
Rat is home from the vet's! This is a cross-category kind of thing, because (i) vet's bill was €100 (less than I feared, but gougingly enormous nevertheless); and (ii) we still need to give him antibiotics twice daily FOR A MONTH and having tried this out this evening, I can see we're going to have heaps of fun with it. But the rat and his child are at least reunited and touching scenes have ensued.
Ugh, I fell asleep trying to write this (despite ear-bleeding neighbour music), but will post it anyway, because I might not be able to remember my own name tomorrow. Or raise my arms.
2% nut "milk"
8% ear plugs