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The van was supposed to be done two days ago, but I took mama to the shop in Stephan's car this afternoon. They say about an hour. Ergh.
The dishwasher melted about nine beautiful plastic cups into a conglomerate; they're not very deformed, but they're all stuck together like an avant-garde vase. It's kind of cool, except that the dishwasher keeps melting good plastic cups. It gets stuck on the dry cycle.
Dan's desperately upset with how things are going at Brevard; they took his role and gave him nothing else good to do, so he's going to the gym and practicing four hours a day and he's going to be a much better person than me when we get back to school. Since I have no idea what to do at a gym, and find exercise for its own sake an abhorrent idea, I thought about digging a hole under the wall next to the north gate so we can jack it up and pour a foundation under it, or maybe slashing the vines down from the trees behind the garage, but, once again, my lazy factor outweighs my bored factor, as well as my motivation to be a real person and do something besides watch DVDs and make chainmail. I haven't practiced in weeks. Not that I've picked anything to practice, yet. Despite advice from both Dr. Farwell and Susanne Mentzer on things to look at.
I've replaced most of the music in my iTunes library, but all I've listened to so far is Ventura Highway. My AIM buddy list is not forthcoming from the server on iChat, but it works fine if I sign in on Andy's PC. I have to call the people in charge of Sibelius and Photoshop and tell them I had a drive crash so they can let me fix the registration issues.
Maybe I'll be a real person when I finish this season. It's the last one I have, so I'd better.
The dishwasher melted about nine beautiful plastic cups into a conglomerate; they're not very deformed, but they're all stuck together like an avant-garde vase. It's kind of cool, except that the dishwasher keeps melting good plastic cups. It gets stuck on the dry cycle.
Dan's desperately upset with how things are going at Brevard; they took his role and gave him nothing else good to do, so he's going to the gym and practicing four hours a day and he's going to be a much better person than me when we get back to school. Since I have no idea what to do at a gym, and find exercise for its own sake an abhorrent idea, I thought about digging a hole under the wall next to the north gate so we can jack it up and pour a foundation under it, or maybe slashing the vines down from the trees behind the garage, but, once again, my lazy factor outweighs my bored factor, as well as my motivation to be a real person and do something besides watch DVDs and make chainmail. I haven't practiced in weeks. Not that I've picked anything to practice, yet. Despite advice from both Dr. Farwell and Susanne Mentzer on things to look at.
I've replaced most of the music in my iTunes library, but all I've listened to so far is Ventura Highway. My AIM buddy list is not forthcoming from the server on iChat, but it works fine if I sign in on Andy's PC. I have to call the people in charge of Sibelius and Photoshop and tell them I had a drive crash so they can let me fix the registration issues.
Maybe I'll be a real person when I finish this season. It's the last one I have, so I'd better.