* * *
The web page for the school the spud will be attending this year is the singularly least helpful web page I’ve ever come across in my life. If I were in charge of that web page, I would put up information such as when the schedule pickup for the various grades is, and what the bus routes are for Madison. I have no clue where around here the spud can catch the bus, and it’s information I’d like to be able to look up on the web page.
Yes, I KNOW that school doesn’t start for a month, but I’m a worrier. What can I say?
* * *
I went and had my stitches removed today. It didn’t hurt until she started removing the scabs, but even that kind of felt good, since it’s been itching an awful lot back there.
She told me that to lessen the scarring, I needed to be careful to use sunscreen when exposing that spot to the sun over the next year or so.
I didn’t tell her that I think scars are badass and it can scar up all it wants.
I also didn’t tell her that chances are really good that my back probably hasn’t seen the sun since I was running around in a pink bikini, and I don’t expect it to see the sun ever again in this lifetime.
* * *
Our cable internet service sucks so incredibly badly lately – every five minutes it goes down for a minute or longer – that if it doesn’t improve in the next few days (and this has been going on for a goddamn week if not longer) I’m probably going to sign up for fucking dial-up service. That is, if I don’t have a MOTHERFUCKING STROKE first.
Knology. Don’t bother.
* * *
In our library/ dining room/ whatever you want to call it sits a secretary (a piece of furniture, that is, not a person. Though I sure could use a secretary to answer the email sitting in my inbox.). Over the weekend, one of the cats (Meester Boogers, I think) was laying on the floor looking under the secretary. I assumed he’d knocked something under there, so I got down on the floor to look.
There were a ton of toy mice under there – which I guess answers the question “Where did all their toy mice go?!” I got a broom and pulled all the mice out from under the secretary, then counted them. Sixteen. There were SIXTEEN toy mice under the secretary.
Is it possible our cats have too many toys?
Nah.
* * *
They always look slightly guilty, as if they’d been doing something they shouldn’t.
I suspect that when I’m not around, they snuggle up to each other.]]>