I Can't Go On, I'll Go On

I know, referencing Beckett in the summer probably violates some kind of blogging statute, and if it doesn't it should. I'm suffering from a surfeit of frivolity -- too much sun and sandboxing, too many dance parties. Zarah and the kids left yesterday morning and I spent the day being narcoleptic -- any time I stopped moving for five seconds I dozed off. We had all been preparing for my husband to go to China for a week, and he hugged Angus before he left in the morning because Angus was going for a birthday party sleepover. After Angus got picked up Eve announced that she wasn't feverish any more and she wanted to go somewhere because she was bored. Since I figured that napping at the wheel of a moving minivan probably wasn't the greatest way to cap off the week, I packed her off to my mother's (because somehow watching tv at Grandma's house is infinitely more fun than watching tv at home). Then I was driving home with blissful visions of a nap, then a scary movie and popcorn for dinner dancing in my head, when my daydream was rudely trampled by the realization that my husband hadn't actually left for China yet, he was only at work -- he wasn't leaving until morning. Not only was the scary movie off, I was probably going to have to cook dinner AND put out. Rats.

So then I fell asleep at five and woke up at nine and had to finish my assignment and email it in before midnight. And goddamned if it wasn't really freaking difficult! You know how the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? Turns out when you keep on clicking the same fucking Library of Congress link it will continue to NOT show you the subject heading for dog training for which you are looking. Also, I could not find an encyclopedia article on truffle hunting to save my life -- my outrage was only compounded by the fact that every damned time I typed 'truffle' it came out 'truggle'. Finally I did the nearly-unthinkable -- used Wikipedia. I got perfect on my last two assignments. SO not getting perfect on this one.

Oh, and Eve has some kind of foot fungus. She found this quite upsetting until we assured her that it generally only happens to people who are very active -- you know, there's no 'couch potato foot'. She is now going around telling everybody either that her foot is athletic or that she has 'an athlete's foot'. All sporty types, might want to check to make sure you still have two.