"I Want to Be Lazy Like the Dogs in the Yard..."

*scream-squeals* OMG OMG DO YOU KNOW WHAT TO-DAY IS OMG?

erinpuff, Ecstatic Natal Day!!!eleventy!!1!one! *glomps and loves all over* Oh, what would I do without Erin? What would I do without shuttle-missing-by-.000024601-seconds, and my daily spam, and my news updates which all come from her, and her Hornblower mullet icon that always makes me happy, and--gah, everything! I love everything about Erin. ^_________^

I hope that the day was/is absolutely wonderful, because you deserve nothing less. I hope someone gave you a new flute, too.

Vive la Erin! May the next year be full of composing of wonderful music, and composerslash, and amislash, and Whose Line, and FH, and all the things that make an Erin happy, and yayomgsomuchlove.

*hugsonto*

Happy birthday. ^_^

"Here I Am, Ready to be Commanded..."

At work to-day, I had a spare hour, and I was going to visit Irma. I never visit Irma because I'm a little afraid of her, but I was thinking, she doesn't really not like me. She just doesn't remember properly, and I confuse her because I'm an idiot and talk with too many large words and too quickly. So I thought I'd try to talk sensibly, and go in and see her, and swirl my skirt for her, and maybe make her happy if I could.

So I went up to her room, and it was empty.

And I just thought, 'oh, hell. I think there's a sort of irony here that's only cruel'. And I felt bad.

So I went back down the hall wondering what I'd do with my hour, and suddenly I saw her coming up the hall in her wheelchair. I've never seen her out of her bed before! And I came over and practically attacked her with a hug, and she looked at me sideways and asked who I was. I told her I was the girl who put up her calenders. Then she said 'oh', and asked me where she could get pain medicine, and I directed her to Linda.

But I was so glad that she was all right after all.

Linda let me have the mister to-day for the 16:15 activity, so my people and I all misted one another. I got Helen, and she squirted me, and Harvey and Dick both did, and Alberta did, and Marcie squealed when I got her; and Mots wouldn't stop, and I had to beg him to let me have the mister. I didn't get Daniel, though, because he's all hooked up to oxygen and things, and has wires, and I didn't want to do anything bad to them. So I performed Singin' in the Rain for him while creating my own rain.

Norm was watching Who Wants to Be a Millionaire on television, which I've never seen before, and I'm afraid I was rather annoying. The person was being asked what word meant a dark and disconnected way of writing, Dickensian, Tolstoyian, Kafkaesque, or Jamesian, and I kept saying, 'It's not Dickensian, whatever it is. I think Kafka. It's not Dickensian, though'; but she guessed Dickensian! And it was wrong. The answer was Kafkaesque. I apologised to Norm for being a pretentious little creature, though.

An awful thing happened, also, but I'm not sure to talk about it.

"Every Kind of Idle Fancy Grows Unchecked..."

Mum and I went to the coffee shop while Waen was at art, and I took down three pages of N.'s letter to A. Unfortunately, I had got half through his nice declaration of love when we had to go, so I just stopped, and now N. isn't speaking to me at all.

We have nine days to fix our play and have it ready. I don't believe we can do it. No, I mean that I honestly don't believe it. *little wriggly shrug* Not sure what to do. The trouble is partly that our director doesn't manage us properly. She lets us get away with murder, and then all of a sudden lays the smackdown, but only once in a while, and always angrily and a little disorganisedly, so that it has no effect. She's always frantic and distracted and keeps putting her head in her hands while we're rehearsing, which is both unencouraging and takes away respect of her. If someone argues with her, she takes exactly the same tone to argue back. It's not good.

Also, Epimethius is being a little heartbroken to me. He loves Pandora so much, because she's his, she's his present, and he adores her, because he's never gotten anything like her before: but the girl who plays her is very squirmy and made Pandora into absolutely a valley girl, gum-chewing, hair-around-the-fingering, annoying-voiced, 'like, like, like, no way!'-ing, &c; and she won't let Epimethius hug her, which he wants desperately to do. She's spoiled Pandora, really, and it's so frustrating.

But he's very happy about Promethius, because our Promethius is unspeakably wonderful. Even though he thinks Epimethius is an utter fool and always patronises him: but Epimethius loves him too much to notice. It makes him happy just to be around him. It's good.

At any rate.

I'm furious with Mum, and Charlotte Bronte. I'm sixty pages from the end of Jane Eyre, and Mum just told me ( spoilers omg )

. I am unspeakably upset. It is unfair. I didn't want this book to be--all the characters I like she--hmph.

*sulks*

We might get some new chickens! Oh, I do hope so! Sandy has killed Legolas and Arwen, and my beautiful Boromir died, and Elda ran away, and Waen's Red Chick drowned, and Montezuma ran away, and all the Tastys have been eaten, and--we have only a few hens left, and of roosters there aren't any besides the Fine Red Rooster. And then there's Kit, but he doesn't count.

So. We need new chickens.