GOOD Thing about today: Yummy Butter Chicken and garlic naan for dinner

BAD Thing: A lens fell out of my glasses while I was bending over and fell into the flushing toilet. Despite a brave gulp-and-grab into the swirling maelstrom of my own bodily fluids, the lens went down the tubes.

And I am out of disposable contacts. SO fun day tomorrow with the inevitible Headache of No Eyewear Pain, until I can run to the eye doctor.

Plus -- dude, I flushed half of my GLASSES down the TOILET.

Emmett's in pain and miserable and has lately been wobbling back and forth between being fond of me and regarding me as an interloper in his life

JZ, I don't know if this will help (and if it doesn't, just tell me to bugger off), but that's par for the course with stepfamilies. (And suddenly I'm wondering -- do you have stepparents? I might be preaching to the choir here, and making myself look like an even bigger pompous ass than usual.)

It took me longer than I'd like to admit to give up my resentment towards my stepdad for intruding and Stealing My Mom. I should point out that, when they met, I was 18 years old. Not still in single digits, like Emmett.

And then one day I realized my stepdad was family, *my* family, and that I love him. It's an odd role that stepparents fill, but eventually you'll all figure out how it works for you.

Emmett is a sweet kid, really loving. It might be a bumpy road, but you'll get there.

My dad's a dork who thinks that exercising when he feels unwell is a perfectly cromulent thing to do.

Is there a group working on finding the genetic marker for this trait?

The new Masterpiece Theater adaptation of "Bleak House" is really, really good. The cinematography is borrowing a lot from some modern horror tropes. Plus, Gillian Anderson!

See, I don't even like exercising much when in the pink of health. A hangnail? Pefectly logical reason to skip the gym -- it might make me throw a clot! Or something.

OTOH, sometimes I pull a deathly-ill-but-still-at-work martyr kick.

I don't even make sense to myself.

Isn't it great, Anne? I haven't read the book, so I can't compare it to source, but Dickens adaptations and me, NSM with the getting along.

Is there a group working on finding the genetic marker for this trait?

First off, they need to give me and my father the same tests!

OTOH, sometimes I pull a deathly-ill-but-still-at-work martyr kick.

Isn't it...some word that's not fun? I'm fiercely defensive of not having taken a sick day since the concussion. Three months without a sick day is atypical for my last year, sadly. But I'll be damned if I let this thing...yeah, I know. But they let me take the Blackberry into the ER, so it was obviously a sign.

See, if I'd had a concussion, I'd prolly still be trying to milk it. But give me a nice 104.3 fever and a wet hacking cough, and I'm yer Martyr!

cool bed [link]

...and we're swinging again.

I intruded on Emmett long enough to talk to him in his room. He was sitting in his rocking chair with a tree branch in his lap. "Can we carve this into a rifle?"

"Uhm. It's a little late to start wood craft project. And we don't have any tools. I don't know...If you want to walk down to the hardware store with me and it's still open we'll see if we can get a few things."

He cheered up instantly at the prospect of a Project, even allowing as how the hardward store might already be closed.

But it wasn't and we got a piece of 2x6, and a dowel, and a saw and a wood chisel and some nails and came merrily home. Have sawed the 2x6 in half. JZ has reviewed the internet and drawn on a pattern and woodshop is on.

Phew. I'm exhausted.

How do you make that bed remotely practical? Where can one live, or how easily does it disassemble?

I think Kat and Lori have an auto-pour (misnomer) kettle, but not the one linked to from that page.

Ah, Emmett. It's good that kids are fickle, except when it's not.