1:00 pm - Wednesday, Feb. 09, 2005
In which I do some catching up...
We are definitely moved in. Definitely. Half of Boy's socks are under the couch, where they are prey to the ferocious dust bunnies. The assorted flotsam has been put away. We are down to our usual constant level of mayhem. You know what though, it really is cleaner down here. I mean, Things get put away because there's a place to put them. It's nice.
It�s nice, but is it proof that people can change? I have been scooping the ole litter box more than I used to upstairs, but less than when we first moved down. Boy�s room is slipping a little. I really want to pull this experiment off because I want to believe I can change myself. I don�t want to be a big ninny when Simon is angry. I don�t want to have a smelly litter box or a messy house or unpaid bills or late fees for movie rentals. I want to grow and change and be different. I try to think of a Something that I�ve changed about myself on purpose because I wanted to, and I can�t. I�ve changed things because I�ve grown into different circumstances. Life throws you a loop and you duck.
Boy got a fish tank for Xmas. We have killed off our first tank. We knew better than to put finicky fish in a fresh tank, but we thought we could pull it off. Now we are going to try again, do things the right way. You should have seen poor Boy- after the first ones died he compared himself to Hitler for bringing home fish just to kill them. He said they would be better off at Meijers, and that we had to get up right then and take the last two back to Meijers so they wouldn�t die. We explained that they probly had a germ (We are genuinely confused as to whether is was a bacterial infection or the fresh tank, but we didn�t tell him that), and that they were doomed in any tank. Boy did he cry. Cry and cry and cry. Simon said if the fish all died we were going to get a fishy screen saver �cause this shit�ll wear you out. By the time the fourth fish died Boy had reached a stage where he cursed the evil Meijers & Walmarts of the world (Because they have nasty tanks, see?) but didn�t actually shed tears.
Boy also got into a fight on the bus. It isn�t his first fight, but it is the first one he got caught in. It�s also the first one he�s won. The other little shit bopped Boy on the head, then Boy shoved him, then the little shit shoved Boy, then Boy socked him in the nose. The little shit got a nose bleed. Boy cried. Probably harder than the other kid did. Boy felt awful that he had hurt anybody- he wailed �Everyone says it�s so glorious to fight, but it�s not�� and that it looked like it really hurt. It said on the official referral that �The student is remorseful�. I guess I have done something right. But seriously, who uses the word �Glorious� ?

Do you know there are something like 6 million blogs out there? The average blog has between 12 and 20 readers, most of whom know the person who writes. I feel so common now.
Speaking of, I just loaded up like, 10 entries that I had stored on my lap top, so go back and read a few back entries.